


Life makes love look hard

by black_wings



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Slavery, Anal Plug, Angst, Auctions, Bruises, Butt Plugs, Child Abuse, Collars, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fear, Hurt/Comfort, Loss, M/M, Nightmares, Non-Consensual, Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Restraints, Sexual Slavery, Slavery, Trust Issues, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2017-10-03
Packaged: 2018-05-29 13:12:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 12
Words: 42,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6376165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/black_wings/pseuds/black_wings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>150 years ago, when the Earth was deemed survivable again, the people on the Ark landed the Ark safely on the ground. Only a few weeks after they landed, they were attacked by Grounders. The attack and the unnecessary deaths of so many people fueled a feeling of hatred and a desire for vengeance against the Grounders. It didn't take long for The War to begin but it took six decades for it to end. Eventually the Sky People won. The Chancellor brought the Commander to the camp and, in front of everyone, he told her that her people would pay for the atrocities they had committed, he promised her that they would be treated as the animals they had proved to be. Then he cut off her head. In the weeks that followed, a lot of Grounders were captured but scarcely any were killed. They were enslaved, sold and bought. The fearsome Grounders that had haunted the Sky People for so long were taught to take orders and to obey them, they were taught to fear their owners, they were taught not to expect mercy or kindness, only pain. But times change as they always do and with new generations came new ideas, new concepts of right and wrong. Since the end of The War, a lot of Grounders won their freedom and a lot of Sky People lost theirs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue - Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! *.*
> 
> This is the first time I'm posting anything I've written and english isn't my first language so I'm a little nervous here...
> 
> Anyway, this is something that I've been working on for a while now and my best friend convinced me to post it  
> I'm not sure if it's any good but I hope you enjoy it  
> The story is dark but it _will_ have a happy ending ^.^  
>  The main pairing will be Bellarke but it'll have many side pairings  
> The abuse featured in the fic happens in the past and will eventually be described in memories or nightmares
> 
>  _edit:_ One more thing, [Dream.Weaver.Stories](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/2049100/Dream-Weaver-Stories) is currently beta-ing this fic.  
>  She's incredible and I really appreciate the time and effort she puts into this fic. You should all read her amazing work <3
> 
> xxx

_**16 years ago** _

Bellamy was playing with his sister in the secret room. The secret room was a hidden compartment underneath their house where they played while their mom and dad weren't home. Bellamy had once asked his mom why they had to stay down there every time they were left alone at home and she'd told him that it kept them safe from the monsters. At first he had been terrified. He was only seven, so if the monsters came there wasn't much he could do to protect his little sister. But then his mom had showed him a picture of a man saying he was the worst monster of all, the one he should fear the most. Bellamy had laughed and he'd told her it was a _man_ not a monster. She'd reprimanded him for laughing at something so serious and told him that sometimes monsters hid behind the prettiest faces; that the world they lived in wasn't fair. Things weren't black and white so it was never easy to spot the real monsters. Even though he was young he would never forget her words or the grim face with which she'd said them.

Octavia was still playing with her dolls but Bellamy had long since given up on trying to distract himself with toys. It was getting dark and his mom and dad hadn't gotten back yet. He was starting to get hungry but he was scared of going upstairs without them being there to protect him. He was also starting to feel worried, they never took this long to get back, they never left them alone for so long.

Suddenly, he heard the door of the house opening with a bang and several pairs of footsteps entered. He could hear someone crying, it sounded like his mom but he couldn't be sure. Octavia was by his side in an instant, her grip on his hand tight. He heard voices but he couldn't make out any words. He stepped closer to the bottom of the stairs and listened to what was being said.

The first voice was from an unknown man, "C'mon Aurora, stop with the games. Where are they?"

He heard his mom's voice, thick from crying replying, "I don't know what you're talking about."

The man's voice had an edge to it and all his patience was gone, "You know damn well what I'm talking about. I'm talking about the two brats you had with that piece of shit, your slave. Now, you either tell me where they are and this can all end well or we do this the hard way. Your choice."

Bellamy didn't understand why they were arguing, none of it made sense. Were they talking about him and Octavia? Why was his mom crying? Where was his dad? Was this man the monster his mom had warned him about so many times?

"Tell me, how can this end well? How can you even say that? If I tell you anything you'll take them away from me," his mom cried.

"Of course I will take them away from you. They're not yours. You didn't buy them."

He was sure even the neighbours could hear his mom's shrill voice, "They're my children, _mine_! I didn't buy them because they're not for sale."

"They will be as soon as I find them," the cold answer left Bellamy frozen in the spot. Octavia was crying softly beside him and he shushed her, afraid the man could hear her.

"Now Aurora, I'm done asking nicely. This is your last chance. You either tell me where they are or I'll put a bullet through your _lover's_ head. You have ten seconds. Ten. Nine," the man had spit the word lover as if it were disgusting and somehow he was sure the man was referring to his dad. "Two. One."

Bellamy held his breath but instead of the gunshot he’d been expecting to hear, he heard his dad's voice, "It's okay, baby. I love you. Always."

He heard his mom's choked up answer, "I love you too. Forever," just before a gunshot echoed through the whole house. There were a few seconds of shocked silence before he heard his mom's tortured wail.

Octavia was crying in earnest, tugging on his hand and asking what was going on, where were mom and dad. Bellamy didn't answer.

"This could've been avoided, you know? And stop with the crying already, he was just a slave."

"He was a human being. He was my-"

"He was your slave. Nothing more," the man interrupted.

Bellamy almost never heard his mom scream but she was screaming when she continued, "He was my everything. I loved him. We didn't do anything wrong. We were happy. You had no right, _no right_ , taking him away from me."

The man's voice was exasperated, "Tell me where they are or the next one goes through _your_ head and after that I promise you I'll turn this place upside down until I find them."

His mom's reply held no emotion and that tone would haunt him forever, "Go to hell."

He wasn't expecting, although he should've been, the gunshot that followed.

He didn't hear anything more being said, only the sound of things crashing and being moved. He picked Octavia up and she laid her head on his shoulder, muffling her cries. They huddled together in a corner, the one furthest from the stairs, as if that would keep them safe.

It seemed to take ages when it probably only took minutes for the men to find the trap door.  
Someone opened it and looked inside, immediately spotting Bellamy and Octavia. The man’s smile was evil, predatory. He took the stairs and two seconds later he was separating him from Octavia despite how hard they both fought to hold on to each other. Then he was grabbing Bellamy by the hair and dragging him upstairs while ordering the other two men to take the girl. Through the haze of pain Bellamy noticed the man wasn't the monster his mom had showed him a picture of but he was sure this one was no less evil. He was dragged across the floor of the house where he could see his mom and dad lying dead on the floor, blood seeping from the bullet holes in their heads. They were holding hands. Bellamy felt tears threatening to spill from his eyes. He had known but he hadn't truly believed it until now.

He was taken to a black van parked just outside the door and roughly shoved inside. He heard Octavia screaming his name and the monster laughing. He didn't even have time to assure her that everything would be okay before his world burst with unimaginable pain and everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, in this chapter we get an idea of what was Bellamy's life before he was taken  
> In the next chapter we'll see what Clarke's life was like before a bunch of events changes everything  
> I'm on holidays so I'll probably be able to update this tomorrow night :)
> 
> Please leave a comment with your opinion and/or kudos if you liked it <3
> 
> xxx


	2. Prologue - Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! *.*
> 
> Yesterday I didn't have time to post this but here it is :)
> 
> I hope you like it <3
> 
> xxx

_**16 years ago** _

Abby was worried. It had been three months since the Blake's incident. _The Blake's incident_. God, she was disgusted with herself. If she was being completely honest, if she was speaking freely without fear of judgement, she would be referring to it as the cold blooded murder of her best friend. But she couldn't afford to think like that. Aurora had and she'd paid the price dearly. 

She sighed and resumed pacing. She had no idea where Jake was and she was sure she wouldn't like it when she found out. But it was more than that. She had this feeling-  
No, she didn't have any _feeling_. She was a rational person. She believed in science, in logic. She didn't believe in premonitions and nothing of the kind. And yet-

She was startled out of her thoughts when a tiny hand grabbed her skirt, trying to catch her attention. Abby looked down into two blue eyes so much like her father's and she couldn't help but smile, her worries dissipating in an instant.

"Mommy, where's dad? He didn't read me a story," her little angel pursed her lips before she continued, "You know I can't sleep when he doesn't read to me. He knows that too. I told him."

Abby got down on her knees so she could be at the same level as her daughter, "I know, sweetie. He's late from work, but I'm sure he'll be home in a few minutes."

"But I'm tired. I want him to read so I can go to sleep."

"Okay, Clarke. What if _I_ read you the story today and your dad reads tomorrow?"

"I don't know."

"Honey, I know your dad wouldn't mind. This way you can go rest and when he gets home he'll stop by your room to kiss you goodnight."

"Really?"

Abby's eyes danced with laughter as she looked at her daughter's hopeful face, "Really."

***

It was already past midnight and Abby was sitting at the kitchen table, an untouched mug of tea in her hands. Jake still wasn't home. He'd left the house early in the morning but not without kissing her and saying he loved her first. It had felt like he was saying goodbye and she couldn't understand why.

Clarke was upstairs, thankfully fast asleep. Abby had read her a fairytale. Clarke had chosen Beauty and the Beast saying it was one of her favorites because it proved that what really mattered was what was inside your heart. Abby had never felt more proud but at the same time she feared for her daughter's future. When she was old enough to understand the world they lived in, when she finally saw the cruel reality that was their lives, she wouldn't just shut up and accept it. She was too much like her father to do just that. Jake had always been the one who let himself be ruled by his heart, by his emotions. Whereas Abby could fake a smile and be polite if the occasion asked for it, Jake would keep his mouth shut and his thoughts to himself at best. 

It was a quarter past one when she heard someone knocking on the front door. She got up to open it but apparently whoever was on the other side of the door thought she was taking too long because the knocking got louder.

She was expecting to see Jake with a lopsided grin, she was expecting him to hug her and whisper sweet nothings while apologizing for worrying her. She was not expecting to see two police officers.

The older one started talking before she had the opportunity to ask what they could possibly want at this hour of the night. "Good evening, ma'am. Are you Abby Griffin?"

She hesitated before she answered, "Yes."

"I'm sorry to inform you but we have some very bad news concerning your husband."

" _What_?" Her voice sounded strange to her own ears.

"I'm afraid he was found today in a house five miles from town with a group of fifteen people. He was planning an uprising against the chancellor. They had guns stored in the house. The chancellor requested that he was immediately executed."

Abby wasn't sure if the man said anything else, she couldn't hear anything past the ringing in her ears. She felt like the floor was swept out from under her. She felt like she was falling into an abyss without end.

A hand on her shoulder grounded her and she found herself on her knees gasping for breath.

"Miss Griffin, you need to take deep breaths."

After a few minutes she'd managed to get her breathing under control but it did nothing to lessen the pain she was feeling deep inside.

"Miss Griffin, if there's anything I can do-"

"You can get the hell off of my property."

"Miss-"

"You _murdered_ my husband, the love of my life. How dare you come to my house-"

The man's entire demeanour changed, "I'm sure you're a reasonable person who understands that your husband was a threat to the system. We found blueprints of certain people's homes in that house."

"I'll only ask one more time."

"It's late and you're still in shock. We'll come by tomorrow so we can ask you a few questions." Maybe the man tried to make his words sound understanding, maybe he didn't. Either way they sounded detached.

"What questions? He's dead. Isn't that enough for you?"

"There will be an investigation of course. We need to know if there was anyone else involved, if there is anyone else who needs to be brought to justice."

"You mean if there's anyone else you need to kill?" When the officer opened his mouth, Abby corrected, "I'm sorry, I meant if there's anyone else you need to _execute_."

The officer shook his head as if disappointed but didn't comment. He sighed and then said, "We'll see you tomorrow, ma'am."

The other officer didn't say anything, he just bowed his head and left with his partner.

As soon as the door closed Abby slid to the ground and every bit of strength she had seemed to crumble. She felt her eyes well up with tears before sobs started wracking her body.

Dawn came and she was still sitting in the same spot, her eyes swollen and bloodshot, when Clarke appeared at the bottom of the stairs. Abby could tell by her face that she was scared and confused.

"What's going on, mommy? Why are you crying? Where's dad?" She asked those three questions like they were so simple to answer. And in her six year old mind they probably were.

Even though she'd spent the whole night crying and she felt like there were no more tears inside her to shed, Abby still felt her eyes well up. Her voice was raw when she finally conjured up the courage to speak. "Honey, we need have a grown up talk."

***

It was two days after the funeral that the letter came. Abby somehow knew even before looking inside that it was from Jake. When she finally opened it and saw the handwriting, her suspicions were confirmed.

_Dear Abby,_

_If you're reading this it means things didn't go according to the plan, it means I'm gone._

_Firstly, I would like to apologize for many reasons. I want you to know how sorry I am for everything you must be going through. Not just losing me but also all the problems you must be having with the police. You don't have to worry much because I was careful and made sure not to implicate you in anything. I also want to apologize for leaving you without an explanation, for lying to you and for keeping secrets from you these last few months. I was just trying to protect you and Clarke. Clarke. Another reason for me to apologize. I didn't want to leave you alone to raise her. I wanted to be able to watch her grow up. But those choices were taken away from me the moment they killed Aurora. They killed her because she fell in love and dared to fight for her happiness. And you know me, perhaps even better than I know myself. You know I couldn't live, couldn't let my baby live in a world like this, in a world where people aren't allowed to be happy, where people can't love who they want without some kind of consequence. I had to do something. And I did. I started something. I started something they won't be able to stop just by killing a few people. I know you don't understand but I hope that maybe one day you will._

_Secondly, I want you to know that I know you're going to take good care of Clarke. You're a great mom and you always will be. You'll make mistakes and you two will argue, but you'll apologize and you'll make up. It's bound to happen so try not to freak out like I know you will when it does, okay? Just promise me one day you'll tell her the truth about what happened and don't let her forget me. Make sure she knows how much her dad loved her._

_Thirdly, I want to ask you to be happy. I know it may seem impossible right now but one day I hope you can manage to. I hope you can find the courage to move on. I hope you find a nice guy, a guy who deserves you and treats you right. I hope you find him because as much as it pains me to say it, I know he's out there looking for you. So, please, _please_ , once you find him don't be scared, don't feel guilty. Be happy knowing that I wanted you to._

_Finally, I would like to say goodbye and to thank you for everything you've done for me. I want to thank you for giving my life meaning, for being the amazing person that you are, for being the girl of my dreams, for loving me as much as I love you. The last years of my life, the years I spent with you, were wonderful, better than I could have ever hoped for. You bring out the best in me. You are my happiness, my sun, my moon, my stars, my whole damn world. I love you. I could say it in every possible way and it still wouldn't be enough. I wish we could've had more time. More time to enjoy your company, to enjoy you. More time to make you feel special, because you are, you're so damn special, baby, I just wish you could see it. More time to make new memories, better ones. I just hope the ones you have of us are enough._

_Forever yours,_

_Jake_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now we have Bellamy and Clarke's backgrounds :)  
> In the next chapter we'll see how they're doing in the present ^.^
> 
> Please leave a comment with your opinion and/or kudos if you liked it <3
> 
> xxx


	3. Chapter I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! :)
> 
> Here's the new chapter *.*
> 
> I hope you like it ^.^
> 
> xxx

Bellamy opened his eyes but otherwise didn't move. His body was still sore from the last beating, which he'd done nothing to deserve. Besides, he didn't want to attract more attention to himself than was strictly necessary. Unfortunately he didn't have to do anything to attract attention, he was on display for that purpose after all. Of all the things he'd experienced in the past years, this wasn't the one he hated the most, but it was close. He was in an auction house for sale. They'd put him in a small cage where his whole body barely fit, with a shackle around his ankle. It wasn't like he could escape and even if he could, he had nowhere to go. Besides, this place was infested with guards, they'd catch him before he made it ten feet out of the cage. It was just another way to make him feel trapped, owned. Just another display of power. They did it because they could and there was nothing he could do, nothing he could say about it. He was also fully naked for any potential buyer to see. He knew what came next. If he wasn't bought before nightfall, they would probably take him to the stage when the actual auction began. Then all kinds of people would bid on him and the one with the highest bid would take him home. _Home_. As if you could ever call the places where they took him to 'home'. He'd had a home once. He'd had a place where he was safe and warm and loved. He'd had people who cared for him, not as property but as someone who mattered. He'd had all that once. And then he had lost it all. No. He hadn't _lost_ anything. It was all taken away from him. And even after all this time, he still couldn't figure out why. Even if his mom had done something wrong (which she hadn't) why would he and Octavia be punished? He felt the pang in his heart that always came when he thought of his little sister. They'd been sold to different people two years after they had been taken. He could only hope fate had been kinder to her.

He was so distracted with his own thoughts he didn't realize someone was approaching until there were two pairs of shoes by his cage. His whole body immediately tensed. 

"What about this one?" The voice was male. Bellamy wanted to look up and see the face to which the voice belonged but he knew better.

"Ah, this one. He's still young-" Bellamy recognized the voice as one of the owners.

The voice interrupted before the other man had the chance to list Bellamy's many qualities. "How young?" 

"He's nineteen, sir." Of course he was and Santa existed too, right?

"Nineteen?" The voice scoffed, "That cannot be considered _young_."

"Well, he could still be considered a teenager-"

"Not by my standards," the voice interrupted again. "Show me another one."

Bellamy sighed in relief as soon as the men went away and instantly felt bad about it. Just because that sick fucker wasn't buying him it didn't mean he wouldn't buy another kid, one probably a lot younger than him. He felt ill just thinking about it and had to close his eyes and swallow down the bile that threatened to come up his throat. 

After a while he heard another set of footsteps coming. All his senses on high alert, he kept his eyes closed.

"This one's a pretty thing. How old?" The new voice was young and male.

"Nineteen, sir." Came the same reply as always. He was in fact twenty three, but it was easier to sell him and they could get a higher price if they lied about that.

"With that age I assume he has already been used?"

"I'm afraid so, sir."

"Hmm," the guy seemed to consider this before asking, "How many owners has he had?"

"Only four, sir." Yeah, _right_. Try seven.

"What about his behaviour? Is he obedient?"

"Very, sir. He'll do _anything_ you want him to. If by any chance he doesn't, I assure you it's nothing a severe punishment won't fix. They're really effective on this one." Bellamy tried not to flinch at the man's words and at the still recent memories they brought up.

"Is that so?" The voice sounded curious and it might have been Bellamy's imagination but it also sounded eager, as if the guy was waiting for an opportunity to test that theory.

"Yes, sir."

"I'm really inclined to buy this one." Bellamy's breathing picked up and he struggled not to let his rising panic show. "Is there anything I should know about him? Anything concerning that I should be aware of? Previous incidents or something of the kind?"

"No, sir. He is perfectly healthy and well behaved."

"What's the price?"

"Three hundred." Three hundred _thousand_. He didn't understand how anyone could be willing to spend that amount of money on him.

The guy was silent for six seconds before he answered, "Well then, let's take care of the paperwork."

"Of course, sir. Please follow me this way and I'll get my co-workers to prepare your purchase."

As soon as they turned their backs, Bellamy looked up, his curiosity getting the better of him. His new owner was younger than he had been expecting, he was maybe two years older than Bellamy. He was tall, perhaps even taller than him. He was well built and had light brown hair. As if sensing Bellamy's gaze assessing him he looked back over his shoulder and dark blue eyes met Bellamy's startled ones. Bellamy shrank back and the guy seemed satisfied with the response. He turned his head and continued following the other man.

The guards came only a few minutes later and Bellamy tried not to shy away from their touches. It was hard, to say the least. They brought to his mind a lot of things he'd rather forget.

They took him to the back and hosed him down with icy water. Then they gave him a t-shirt and a pair of pants. It wasn't much and it did nothing to protect him from the cold nor did it abate the shivers that were wracking his body but at least he wouldn't have to walk out of this hellish place naked. He'd learned to be thankful for the smallest things a long time ago.

On the way out one of the guards said, "Don't look so fucking happy to see the clothes, bitch. He probably just wants to rip them from your body before he fucks you."

The others just snickered. They led him to the counter out front. His master was already waiting for him.

"Do you need any help getting him to the car, sir? Or perhaps you would like for us to arrange a transportation crate?"

"No, that won't be necessary. I can manage perfectly on my own."

"Of course, sir. I wasn't trying to imply anything on the contrary."

His master didn't answer, he just turned towards the door and walked out.

Someone shoved him in the back and Bellamy stumbled but managed to catch himself before he hit the ground. The person who pushed him was probably the same person who hissed at him, "What are you waiting for, _slave_? Go after him." 

Bellamy didn't argue. He walked out the door and was so _not_ prepared for the cold or the wind. His master was walking ahead of him and he didn't look back once, just assumed Bellamy would follow. He was shaking by the time he got to the car. The guy motioned to the passenger's door so Bellamy got in.

As soon as the doors were closed, the guy locked them and turned to Bellamy. "Okay, let me explain how things are gonna be. My name is Dax but you will refer to me as master at _all_ times. You will answer me when I speak, understood?"

Bellamy obediently answered, "Yes, master." 

"Good. Now, I bought you as a birthday gift for a _friend_ of mine. Her birthday party is a big fancy event at her house next week. Unfortunately I wasn't invited. Some things happened between us a few weeks ago and let's just say we're not really on speaking terms at the moment. But we're going to change that. More specifically, _you're_ going to change that. I'll explain it better once we're home."

The guy didn't say anything else but he looked like he was waiting for something. His expression was becoming more and more impatient by the second until Bellamy quietly said, "Yes, master." This seemed to pacify the guy who just nodded, started the car and drove them out of that dreadful parking lot.

Sometime later his master turned to Bellamy, "I hope you know that the fact that I'm giving you to someone else doesn't mean I won't use you as I please until then. After all, we still have a week and I need to sample my goods, don't I?"

"Yes, master." Bellamy's voice was barely above a whisper and this time he couldn't have hidden the fear, the absolute hopelessness he felt even if he had tried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, we got an idea of what Bellamy's life as been like. It was nothing explicit _yet_.
> 
> In the next chapter Bellamy and Clarke will finally meet, yay :D
> 
> Please leave a comment with your opinion and/or kudos if you liked it <3
> 
> xxx


	4. Chapter II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey :)
> 
> I'm sorry for not posting this sooner... I was going to upload it yesterday, I just had to read it again to check for any mistakes I might have missed but then I watched the episode and it killed me :'( 
> 
> *spoilers* I still can't believe Lincoln is dead, my only comfort is that he died _honorably_ (if Jason really wanted to kill Lexa, he could've at least given her the death she deserved), protecting his people... And Octavia's face... And his last words to her... It completely broke my heart and left me a sobbing mess... The only good thing for me was the Kabby kiss (and Monty and Bellamy being on the good guys' side again)  <3
> 
> Anyway, here's the new chapter (it's longer than the previous ones) *.*
> 
> I hope you enjoy it <3
> 
> xxx

Clarke was in her room still getting dressed. She was sure some of the guests had already arrived but it wasn't as if she cared. Today was her twenty second birthday. Like every other year, her mom and Kane threw her a birthday party. They invited lots of people, lots of important people, after all they had appearances to keep, and some of Clarke's closest friends. It was basically the same thing every year but no one ever complained. In fact, the majority of people looked forward to this event, they looked forward to any of the Griffin's parties actually. 

When her dad died she and her mom were in a really bad place. It was mainly because of the loss and grief but there were other factors that only made things worse. They had to put up with the police, the house searches and interrogations for several weeks. As if that wasn't enough the family's reputation went spiralling down. Clarke didn't actually give a shit about that and she suspected that her mom didn't either. However in this world only the most powerful ones thrived and her mom had wanted Clarke to have a future, a good life. She'd wanted her daughter to be able to follow her dreams. So, she'd restored the Griffin's name. It had taken a while and being close friends with the Chancellor had certainly helped but eventually people no longer stared at them when they went out (they still did but for completely different reasons) and they started being invited to parties and other important events once again.

It was at one of those events that her mom had met Kane six years ago. In the beginning they argued about everything and anything. It was like they were two opposites, two sides of the _same_ coin, as Clarke had put it. When they finally went on a date, Clarke had been happy for them. She'd supported their relationship since the start because she was absolutely sure that her dad wouldn't have wanted her mom to be alone for the rest of her life. She was sure he would've wanted her mom to move on and find happiness again. Kane and Abby fell in love and after two years of dating they moved in with him. They sold the house where Clarke had grown up and the apartment where Kane lived and bought a new home. The three of them had been living here since then. It had only been four years and yet it seemed like it had been for much longer.

Snapping out of her thoughts, Clarke looked at herself in the mirror. She was dressed in a new pair of jeans and a blue blouse that brought out the blue in her eyes. Her mom had chosen the outfit. She'd wanted Clarke to put on a dress like every other year but this time Clarke had refused. She was getting tired of playing the perfect princess for the town to see, she was getting tired of pretending to be okay with everything that went on in their guest's houses, she was getting tired of pretending not to care about how certain people were treated. She knew her mom and Kane noticed this and that they were worried for her but there really was nothing they could do.

Sighing, she went to her bathroom, applied some makeup, took another look at her reflection and, satisfied with what she saw, finally went downstairs. 

Kane was at the bottom of the stairs waiting for her. Amused, as soon as he saw her he said, "Your mom is freaking out. She wasn't sure you'd come downstairs."

Clarke smiled, "It's not as if I like being here but I wouldn't do that to her, to either of you."

He nodded, "I know. You look beautiful."

"Thanks, Kane. I'm going to look for mom."

She found her mom by the food table. "Mom."

"Clarke. It was about time you showed up. I only called you about a hundred million times." Even though her voice was reprimanding her eyes were warm so Clarke knew she wasn't really upset.

"Sorry. You know I-"

"I know, honey. I get it."

Clarke nodded gratefully, "Has anyone arrived yet?"

"In case you haven't looked around you, almost everyone is already here."

She gave her mom a droll stare, " _Mom_. You know what I mean."

Abby laughed, "I think I saw Monty and Jasper heading for the kitchen. I'm pretty sure I saw Raven but I'm not sure where she went. Wells isn't here yet and I haven't seen Lincoln either."

"Thanks, mom." Kissing her mom on the cheek, she went to find her friends.

As she entered the kitchen she was immediately engulfed by a pair of arms, then another and another. "Happy birthday!"

Laughing, she pushed them all away, "Damn, give me some space to breathe."

Looking around her she saw Monty, Jasper, Raven and Lincoln.

Jasper was the first to complain, "We haven't seen you in _forever_."

Monty immediately agreed, "Yeah. We haven't seen you in like-"

"A week," Raven cut in rolling her eyes.

Lincoln who was usually the quiet one added, "And we text each other every day, guys."

Jasper and Monty both pouted. Clarke only laughed and shook her head. She and the rest of the group were more than used to their friends' goofiness.

Just as Jasper was about to say something her mom's voice called from somewhere in the living room, "Clarke, sweetie, there's someone here to see you."

Her friends gave her a surprised stare and they opened their mouths to bombard her with questions but she interrupted, "I have no idea who it is. I didn't invite anyone else besides you guys and Wells."

She went into the living room with them following behind and what she saw at the door made her stop dead in her tracks, making Jasper bump into her.

He exclaimed an indignant, "Hey!" but shut up as soon as he looked in the same direction she was.

She heard a gasp from behind her and guessed it was either from Monty or Raven. Probably Monty.

In the door stood Dax, the asshole, but that wasn't what caused their reactions. No. What caused their reactions was the collared boy kneeling by his feet.

She strode to him and asked, "What the hell is this?"

He was obviously not affected by her anger and calmly answered, "Your birthday present, of course."

She was sure her eyes must've looked as if they were going to pop out of her head. "My _what_?"

He repeated more slowly, mocking her, "Your birthday present. It is your birthday today, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"Well, then here it is."

She looked at her mom and saw the blank look on her face. Looking at the guests she saw some of them with awed expressions, others were smiling. They were obviously fucking excited about this. She turned to her friends and saw their understanding faces, they smiled reassuringly and Lincoln gave a subtle nod. Clarke came to the conclusion that she had to accept it. She couldn't refuse.

She looked at the boy, _really_ looked at him for the first time, and realized he couldn't be much older than her. He was _beautiful_ with tanned skin and freckles on his nose and cheeks. But the collar on his neck was tight, too tight, probably tight to the point of pain and it dawned on her that it just wasn't possible that he was breathing without struggle. Her eyes quickly scanned his face again and she noticed a bruise on his left cheek that was covered with concealer. It was well hidden and she wouldn't have been able to see it if she wasn't an artist, if she didn't notice the little things that usually didn't meet the eye. As she continued her assessment, her blue eyes met his soft brown ones. Clarke's breath caught. She could see every emotion the boy was feeling in the depths of his eyes. She saw the pain, the fear, the resignation, the hopelessness. And it could've been her mind playing tricks on her but she was almost sure she also saw a fire burning deep inside them. That fire could be dimmed but it hadn't been extinguished yet. She knew then that this boy still had a lot of fight in him, he just needed someone to tell him, to show him, that it was okay to let it out. She took stock of the way his hands were resting on his knees, tightly clenched into fists. But that wasn't what really caught her attention though. No. What drew her eyes to his hands was the way they were shaking even though the boy was clearly trying to make them stop.

She looked at Dax and saw the smug smile on the bastard's face. This was probably payback for what had happened two weeks ago.

She looked at the boy again and as soon as she did, she noticed that his eyes were looking at her almost pleadingly. She just didn't know what he was pleading for. 

She turned her gaze to Dax again and faking a smile, she said, "Thank you so much, Dax. Don't worry I'll take care of him." Turning to Kane, who as if on cue was just now entering the room, she asked, "Kane could you please take the boy to my room? I'll be there in a few minutes. I'm just going to take care of the paperwork with Dax."

She noticed that Kane's smile was as forced as hers, "Of course, honey. Just don't take too long."

The boy stiffly followed Kane upstairs but not without giving her one last glance.

***

Clarke had taken care of the papers and gotten rid of Dax as soon as it was all in order. The boy was officially hers. The mere idea left her nauseous.

She'd said goodbye to her friends. They'd understood but made her promise to meet up next week.

When she entered her room she saw the boy (he still hadn't told anyone his name even though she and Kane had asked, several times) hadn't moved from the spot where he'd been half an hour ago, when she'd came to check up on him and tell him she'd only be a few more minutes. His shoulders were hunched over as if that would make him look smaller and protect him at the same time.

She cleared her throat. "Well, you can use the bathroom if you'd like to take a shower, the shampoo and gel are inside the shower. You can put your clothes in the basket and I'll send them to wash."

The boy nodded and answered with a quiet, "Thank you, mistress."

Clarke tried and failed not to flinch at the tittle. "I told you, you can call me Clarke."

The boy swallowed nervously, "I'm sorry. Thank you, Clarke."

She sighed. He said her name with the exact same tone with which he'd said mistress.

"Okay. I'll go get something for you to put on after you're finished."

The boy's eyes flashed and he seemed like he was struggling between saying something or not. He opened his mouth and hesitated again before saying so quietly she almost didn't hear him, "I already have something on, mis- Clarke."

" _What_?"

If the boy had looked nervous before he was looking almost panicked now. "Master, he-"

"You mean Dax?" She interrupted.

The boy nodded but didn't give a verbal confirmation. "Master put something in me before we left the house and came here."

Clarke was speechless. She- She just couldn't believe, couldn't wrap her mind around what the boy had just confessed. She knew, of course she knew, what most slaves went through, what most of them were used for. But to have _this_ boy telling her that and so hesitantly... It broke her heart.

She swallowed past the sudden lump in her throat before gently asking, "Do you want me to take it out?"

The boy's startled eyes searched hers looking for something, perhaps some sign that she was lying or that she had other intentions. Just the thought of it made her sick. She tried to reassure him by keeping her expression as open as possible.

The boy looked lost before his face shut down and he stated with an emotionless voice, "I'm yours now. I belong to you. You should do what _you_ want."

She could tell the words left a sour taste on his tongue even though his expression remained unreadable. "You're half right. You _do_ belong to me now but I won't do anything you don't want me to, anything you're not comfortable with." She knew he didn't believe a single word but still continued, "Which is why you should tell me if you want me to take it out of you or not. It's simple. Just a yes or no. I promise you won't be punished or hurt no matter your answer."

The boy was silent for at least a couple of minutes and Clarke was sure he wouldn't answer. She had just turned to go find some clothes for him to wear when she heard a whispered, "Yes."

She turned and what she saw made her heart constrict painfully in her chest. The boy's expression was desperate, his eyes were squeezed shut and his shoulders seemed more hunched over than before if that was even possible.

When she said nothing he rasped out, "Please. _Please_."

That emotion filled plea set her into motion. "Lie on the bed," she ordered gently.

His eyes snapped open at that and his whole body visibly went taut. He looked surprised by her answer and at the same time terrified of her and of what she might do.

"I will just take it out. Nothing else. I promise." Her words did nothing to calm him though. "Look, I know you don't trust me. You have no reason to. You just met me and I'm your owner," Clarke spit the word 'owner' with as much disgust as she felt towards the entire situation, "but you _can_ believe me. I mean you no harm. You're safe with me. I won't let anyone hurt you."

She didn't understand why she was feeling so protective over someone she had met barely two hours ago. Maybe it was because he was under her care or because she was responsible for him. Either way she would make sure he was safe and got everything he needed, everything he wanted.

It could've been her words or her voice or maybe her expression, but somehow the boy seemed to relax a fraction. He nodded and softly padded over to the bed, where he lay on his stomach.

"You can turn onto your back if it makes you more comfortable."

Without a word, only a sigh of relief, the boy immediately did so.

She approached the bed, slowly as if not to spook him. "Can you please take off your pants?"

She let him keep his shirt on. She didn't need him fully naked to take the thing out of him and didn't want him to feel any more exposed than necessary. However, if she _had_ asked him to take his shirt off she would have seen the bruises that painted his torso in purple and yellow and the angry welts that covered his back.

The tension that had left the boy came back again but he stiffly did as she asked. He took off the pants revealing he was naked underneath. Clarke made a point of not looking down, trying to convey to him some sense of privacy and stared at his eyes instead. She couldn't help the feeling of deep sadness that came over her as she saw the unsureness there. She made a quick mental note to find a pair of boxers and clean clothes for him to put on afterwards. 

She took a deep breath. "You can relax. I was a doctor and used to work in a hospital, so this is nothing I haven't done before."

The boy had the exact opposite reaction to her words than what she'd been expecting. Instead of relaxing he grew even more anxious.

She sighed, there was nothing she could do. "I'll get this over with as fast as I can, okay?" As expected she didn't receive an answer. "Could you please open your legs?"

The boy's back was propped on her pillows against the headboard. At her request he planted his feet on the bed and let his knees fall away from each other, putting on display to her his most vulnerable parts.

Clarke got on her knees on the bed and sat on her heels between his legs. This time she had no choice but to look down. She couldn't help but notice the size of his cock. Even limp he looked deliciously big. She shook those thoughts from her head though and focused on the task at hand. His hole was stretched around a plug. A _large_ plug. It was no doubt uncomfortable and very likely painful. She wrapped her hand around the base and gave it a soft experimental tug.

The boy's body tensed further and he clenched his eyes shut.

"You have to relax your body. Otherwise this will hurt ten times worse."

He nodded his head and forced his muscles to relax. "I'm ready," came his soft whisper.

Clarke took another deep breath and steadied herself. "Okay."

She started pulling the plug out, slowly, trying her best not to hurt the boy, who was trembling. The plug was about halfway out when he gave a soft whimper. A second later all his muscles tensed up and he started whispering almost frantically, "I'm s-sorry. I'm s-so sorry, mistress. I-I'll keep quiet. I-I swear I'll keep quiet but _p-please_ take it out."

Clarke was shocked, to say the least. She laid her hand on the boy's knee and made soothing circles with her thumb on the boy's skin. "It's okay. Hey," she waited until his eyes opened and locked on hers before she repeated, "It's okay. You can make noise if it hurts. Or if it doesn't. You can let it out. No one will hurt you for it."

The boy's eyes didn't leave her face as she took the plug the rest of the way out. As it popped free the boy gave another pained whimper and a soft cry but otherwise didn't make his pain known. He didn't apologize this time though so she counted it as a win.

Then she took a better look at the plug. It was rather large, larger than a regular cock. It was coated with a bit blood and some kind of white substance. _Semen_ , she realized with horror. She swallowed down the bile she felt crawling its way up her throat and took deep breaths trying to calm herself.

She'd seen all this before, dealt personally with situations very much like this one before while she still worked at the hospital. She didn't know why this was affecting her this way. 

Clarke got up and went into the bathroom. She instantly tossed the disgusting plug out. She took a small fluffy towel from one the cabinets beneath the sink and wet it with warm water. After that she returned to the boy.

He was laying on his side, curled into a ball, his whole body trembling. She offered him the towel, "Here, it's warm. You can clean yourself."

When the boy made no motion to get the towel, Clarke sighed and gently pried his legs open, just enough so she could clean between his legs. She noticed his abused hole was swollen, puffy and red. She'd have to apply some salve to it after he showered.

Clarke let the boy's legs fall closed again and got up. She deposited the towel in the basket and then turned to him, "You can shower now if you still want to."

The boy nodded his head, "I'd like to, if you don't mind of course, Clarke."

She smiled reassuringly, "Of course not. Do you need help?"

The boy shook his head no. 

"Okay then. I already told you where the gel and shampoo were. You have towels under the sink. If you need anything, call me, okay?" She asked gently.

The boy nodded again, "Thank you, Clarke."

She smiled softly at him, then turned and left the room, closing the door behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so we saw a small interaction between part of the gang, Clarke and Bellamy met and we got an idea of what Bellamy went through with Dax :)
> 
> School starts again this week :c so I'll probably only be able to update next weekend *.*
> 
> Please let me know what you thought <3
> 
> xxx


	5. Chapter III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey *.*
> 
> I'm so sorry for the late update but with school it's harder to find time to write :/
> 
> This chapter starts with Bellamy's POV, then changes to Clarke's and almost at the end changes to Bellamy's again :)
> 
> Just one more thing, I had to change everyone's age to make the story more believable (I went back and changed it in the other chapters too). So, Clarke just turned 22. Bellamy and Octavia were taken when they were 7 and 4, sold when they were 9 and 6 and they're now 23 and 20. I'm sorry for changing it but it makes more sense and it's more realistic if they're all older. I hope you don't mind much.
> 
> Anyway, here's the new chapter, I hope you like it <3
> 
> xxx

As soon as Clarke left and the door swung closed behind her, it was as if a huge weight had been lifted from Bellamy's chest. He knew, of course, that just because there was a door between them it didn't mean he was safe. She could come back at any moment. She _would_ come back. And when she did there was nothing that could protect him. Sure, she'd taken that thing out of him but that was probably because it was from another master. He had learned a long time ago, the hard way, that masters and mistresses could be very possessive of their slaves. The fact that Clarke had asked him not to call her mistress didn't change the fact that she owned him and that proved she was just like every owner he'd had, just as bad as any of them.

After lying on the bed for what felt like seconds but was surely only several minutes, Bellamy decided to get up. He didn't want to. The bed was comfortable and so soft. It had been so long since he'd been allowed to sleep, to lie in something so soft. It had been even longer since the last time he'd lain in a bed just to rest, without having anyone there with him, without having to do anything. But he still had a shower to take and he didn't want to keep Clarke waiting and risk upsetting her.

Sighing, he got up and went to the bathroom. It was big. There was a shower stall and next to it there was also a bathtub. The tiles were faded blue. He opened the cabinet under the sink, saw the towels, took one out and put it on the toilet seat.

He got into the shower stall and turned on the water. As soon as the warm spray of water hit his skin, Bellamy sighed in pure bliss. It had been so long since the last time anyone had let him use warm water. Most of his past owners had thought it was a waste of money and a luxury slaves didn't need and didn't deserve.

Bellamy didn't dwell on that thought though, he enjoyed the water and its temperature, at least while it lasted, while he was still granted access to it.

He shampooed his hair and soaped his body, then rinsed and got out.

He was about to grab the towel when someone knocked on the door. Bellamy froze mid-motion and in a voice that sounded strange to his own hears asked a weak "Yeah?"

"Clarke's on the phone with a friend so she asked me to bring you some clothes." It was Kane's voice.

They'd been nothing but nice to him since he got here but Bellamy knew it wouldn't last. If the guy outside the door wanted to take him right there in the bathroom, he could and no one would think anything of it. Without really thinking it through, Bellamy jumped out of the shower stall, crossed the bathroom with quick steps and locked the door. The noise of the door locking seemed obnoxiously loud in the silence and Bellamy started to panic. He'd just locked himself inside a bathroom, he'd just locked his _master_ outside said bathroom. It was a clear act of rebellion. They would kill him. No, they wouldn't kill him, he was more valuable alive. But they would punish him. Of course they would. And it wasn't going to be a light punishment either. And he didn't know these people, he had no idea what he to expect. They could beat him or whip him or starve him or maybe they'd rather-

Another knock on the door broke through his thoughts before they could take him to darker places. "Hey. Are you alright?"

Bellamy didn't answer. Why would his master ask if he was alright? It was a trick of some sorts, it had to be. Masters didn't care about their slaves' well-being. They cared about the state of their property. They cared about themselves and nothing else.

"Listen. I know you're probably scared, you wouldn't lock the door for no reason. But I won't hurt you. No one in this house will hurt you. You're safe with us." 

The man's voice sounded sincere but Bellamy knew all about deception, he wasn't going to let himself be fooled by a tone of voice.

"Open the door, please." The fact that the man had said please almost broke Bellamy's resolve. Masters _never_ said please, at least not to a slave. But then again, the guy could say 'please' now and make Bellamy beg later.

Finally the knocks on the door stopped and he heard the man's footsteps walking away.

Alone in the bathroom, the almost haunting silence was broken by Bellamy's heavy breathing. His heart was beating wildly in his chest. He put as much distance as he could between him and the door. When his back hit the wall on the other side of the bathroom, Bellamy slid to the ground, hugged his knees to his chest and rested his head on them. He just had to stay calm. It was easier said than done though. Especially when he knew something _bad_ was going to happen to him but didn't know what it was or when it would happen. Perhaps he should open the door. At least that would give him a little sense of control.

That chain of thought was cut short when he heard two pairs of footsteps coming his way. They stopped just outside the door and he heard Kane saying, "I told you, I didn't do anything. I just told him I'd brought him clothes and he locked himself inside."

"Nothing else happened?" Clarke asked. And even though the question could be interpreted as an accusation, her voice wasn't suspicious or accusatory.

"No."

Bellamy heard a soft sigh and a small "Okay."

There was a knock on the door, a softer one, and then Clarke's voice, "Can you open the door? You don't have to be afraid. Nothing will happen to you."

Bellamy should've gotten up and opened the door and let them in. He didn't. They would manage to get the door open eventually. He just wanted to be alone for a little while longer.

"Clarke, I don't think he'll let you in. He's obviously scared and he doesn't trust us, he won't open the door just because you asked him." 

Bellamy heard the door's handle jingle and then the sound of metal on metal.

After a while he heard Kane's surprised voice, "What are you- Are you picking the lock? Where did you learn to do that? How-"

"Lincoln taught me."

"Why?"

"Don't ask. You _really_ don't want to know," came Clarke's reply and there was laughter in her voice.

"But-"

"I'm serious. You don't want to know," she interrupted and her tone was almost playful.

He heard the man sigh and say, "We _will_ talk about this later."

"There's nothing to talk about."

The man didn't get to answer because someone else entered the other room. Bellamy heard a feminine voice and Kane whispering although he didn't catch what was being said. Then he heard two pairs of footsteps retreating, presumably Kane and the woman leaving.

Seconds passed in silence until he heard the click of the lock opening.

Out of nowhere a thought passed through his mind and just like that, Bellamy knew what to do. This was his chance, the one he'd been waiting for for most of his life, he just had to take it.

//

Clarke had been downstairs on the phone with Raven when Kane had come to get her. One look at his face told her something had happened. Once he'd actually explained what had happened she did her best not to flip. She knew it wasn't Kane's fault. She trusted him. And still the small irrational part of her brain kept telling her that if _she_ 'd been there this wouldn't have happened.

They'd gone upstairs and she'd tried to convince the boy to open the door. She still hoped that he might open it, even though deep down she knew he wouldn't. He hadn't even answered her and she tried not to feel hurt by that. What was she expecting? The boy had just met her, he didn't know her, he didn't know anything about her, she was his _owner_ for fuck's sake. Of course he didn't trust her. He couldn't. Anyone else might've accepted that fact. Not Clarke, though. She was determined and she never lost hope.

She knelt and, grabbing a pin from her hair, started to pick the lock.

She'd forgotten Kane was there until she heard his surprised question. She would've laughed at his shocked expression if it weren't for the fact that his curiosity, his concern was dangerous.

Clarke had been living in an apartment in New York by herself for the past two years. All her friends lived there as well so her mom hadn't objected much when Clarke had announced she was moving out. Besides, she came home almost every weekend and she'd opened an art gallery there. It just made sense. That was all her mom and Kane knew. In their heads, Clarke was living in another city, not far from where they lived and she painted and worked and hung out with her friends. They didn't know about the rest. They had no idea about what else she and the gang did besides partying. And that's how she intended to keep it. They didn't need to know. They _couldn't_ know. It was safer for everyone if they were kept in the dark.

She made light of the situation, hopefully making him think she and the gang were playing around.

Thankfully, Abby chose that moment to show up. Apparently Thelonious had called and they were both needed at the council. Kane and her mom left but at the door Kane shot her one last look that clearly said this wasn't over. She wasn't too worried about that though. She'd make something up.

She focused on the door again. She could've already opened the door but she didn't want to make Kane even more suspicious so she pretended to take her time. With him gone, it only took her a few seconds until she heard the telling click.

The first thought to run through Clarke's mind once she entered the bathroom was that the boy was not there and that he'd somehow managed to escape, even though they were on the second floor. But then she saw him on the floor on the other side of the room. He was sitting, completely naked and still wet, with his knees drawn up to his chest and his arms wrapped protectively around them. He looked so small, so defenceless. And it was wrong, so _wrong_.

Looking at the boy more closely, she froze on the spot when she noticed a few disturbing things that had escaped her before.

The boy hadn't dried off, he was still wet, his hair was plastered to his head and water droplets were falling onto his skin, making it glisten. He was shaking but she was sure it wasn't just because he was freezing. He was scared, terrified.

He was thin, too thin. His bones, though especially his ribs stood out and she could practically see their outline. He was obviously underweight and underfed. Feeling like she might throw up, she wondered how long it had been since the last time he'd eaten. The boy must've been starving.

There were old scars and fresh bruises covering almost his whole body. There were hands and fingers imprinted on his thighs, fading purple and yellow bruises on his stomach and chest, cuts and welts on his upper back (the only part of his back she could see given his position) and what looked like burn marks on his shoulders. He still had the collar tied around his neck and it was just as tight as it had been before. 

She took a deep calming breath and swallowed the lump in her throat.

Picking up the towel, she wrapped it around his shoulders. Then she asked quietly, "Why are you still wearing that thing?"

He flinched at her question and looked at her with a confused expression.

Clarke clarified, "The collar. It's obviously hurting you. Why didn't you take it off?"

She could swear she saw the boy grit his teeth and he was glaring at the floor when he replied, "I didn't have permission."

She was taken aback by his answer. She thought she'd made it clear that she didn't want him to be uncomfortable. "Here you don't need permission to do what you want, okay?" She didn't get an answer but she was getting used to that. "Do you want me to take it off?"

The boy shrugged his shoulders so she took that as a yes. She was aware of the tension in his body as she knelt by him. Still, she reached around his neck so she could unfasten the clasp of the collar.

The second the collar fell from his neck, the boy surged forward, taking Clarke by surprise and knocking her onto her back on the floor. He was on top of her a second later and he reached for her neck but Clarke didn't give him the chance to do much more. More than recovered from the shock, she pushed him off of her and rolled them over, inverting their positions, sitting on his stomach and using her thighs to keep him trapped. The boy didn't surrender though. He planted his feet on the floor and used them as leverage to try to get her off of him. If the boy had been healthy and if he was trained (like she was) maybe he would've succeeded and maybe he would've managed to get the upper hand. As it was, all he could do was buck wildly beneath her. She grabbed his wrists and held them together when he started to throw punches, trying with all his might to hit her.

After a while they both calmed down. Their breaths were coming in harsh pants as if they'd both run a marathon.

Clarke studied the boy. He looked calm, if out of breath, but his eyes and the trembling of his hands (which she was still holding between hers) betrayed him. His face was defiant and his eyes were daring her to do whatever she wanted but she could see the dread hidden beneath it all.

"Are you still going to insist I'm safe now?" And she was sure the question was supposed to come out taunting, challenging. Instead, his voice broke and he sounded unsure.

Clarke knew why he'd done it, of course. It'd been a desperate attempt to escape. Maybe deep down he knew he wouldn't accomplish anything with it, but it wasn't in his nature to just give up without a fight.

"You _are_ safe," she told him softly, "no one will hurt you. I'll let go now, okay?" He was looking at her, suspicion evident in his eyes, as if thinking what the catch was.

She released his hands, slowly eased off of him and got up. She offered him a hand that he didn't take, but he accepted the towel when she extended it to him and wrapped it around his waist.

After that she left the bathroom and went into her bedroom. He followed without a word.

She pointed to the bed, indicating Kane's borrowed clothes and told him, "You can put that on and then come downstairs. I'll be in the kitchen. You must be hungry."

This time she didn't wait for an answer she knew she wouldn't get, she just left the room and closed the door.

Her mom and Kane were out so she would have to make him something to eat herself. Her cooking wasn't all that great but she tried her best to make something that would taste good.

It was the middle of the afternoon but she decided to make him burgers.

When he appeared at the doorway a few minutes later she could tell he thought this was all a trick or some kind of punishment.

"The burger will only take a few more minutes. You can sit down if you want."

The boy didn't answer just went to sit by the table on the floor.

"You can sit on a chair," she offered softly.

He looked at her startled and his face went pale before his expression turned blank.

He was starting to take the sweatpants off when she stopped him with a shocked "What the hell are you doing?"

The boy didn't answer, just kept looking at her.

"You don't have to take your clothes off to sit in a chair, you know."

He continued to look at her as if gauging what her plan was before he approached the table and put his hand on the back of a chair.

She nodded with what she hoped was an encouraging expression and the boy pulled the chair out, all the while keeping eye contact.

Slowly, as if to give her time to change her mind, he sat on the chair.

Clarke turned again to the pan, took the meat out and placed it on the bread, adding a slice of cheese, ham and lettuce. 

Satisfied, she placed it on the table in front of the boy and waited for him to eat. He didn't. Instead, his hands gripped the table until his knuckles turned white and he refused to look at the food in front of him.

"You don't like burgers? I can make you something else if you'd prefer."

The glare she received was unexpected and the tone of voice he used even more so. "It smells good."

"I bet it tastes better. Don't you want to try it?"

He clenched his teeth, "Yes."

"Then eat it."

At that his head snapped up and he shot her a surprised glance. Then he grabbed the burger and devoured it, as if afraid she would take it away from him.

Only after he'd finished did he look at her again and this time his face was wary.

"How can I thank you, Clarke?" He pronounced the words in a robot-like way.

She was shaking her head even before he'd gotten the whole sentence out. "You don't need to thank me. In _any_ way."

He nodded but didn't seem convinced.

"Do you want another one? Or something to drink?"

The boy fixed his gaze on her once again before nodding slowly and uttering a quiet, "Please."

Clarke didn't waste any time. She prepared him another burger and gave him a glass of orange juice to drink. The boy accepted both but he was reluctant to drink the juice. It didn't take long for her to realize that he thought she'd drugged it so she took a few gulps of it. After that he drank the whole cup.

When he finished she said, "We should take care of the cuts and bruises I saw earlier but that can be done later. Do you need anything for the pain?"

He immediately shook his head no.

"Okay. Then I think you should rest. You looked tired, like you're about to fall over."

The boy shrugged and confessed, "I didn't sleep much in the past few days."

Clarke could guess why that was and she didn't like it in the least. "Let's go upstairs, then. I'll show you your bedroom."

She was already heading towards the stairs so she missed the bewildered look the boy shot her before following her.

Once upstairs she led him to a guests' room, the one directly in front of her own bedroom. The house was big, besides her bedroom and her mom and Kane's, there were three other rooms. So it wasn't for lack of options that she'd chosen this one for him. She could've given him the room at the end of the hall, but that would put him nearer her mom and Kane and further away from her and for some reason she didn't like that idea. She'd promised herself and the boy that she would protect him and that he wouldn't be hurt again and she planned to keep her promise. She knew without a doubt that he was safer with her than with them. And besides, if he needed her or if anything happened during the night, she could get to him faster and easier this way. It was more practical. At least, that's what she told herself.

Opening the door and turning to the boy she said, "This will be your bedroom. No one is allowed to enter it without your permission, unless of course it's an emergency."

The boy nodded and looked around, taking in the baby blue walls and noticing that the room was equipped with furniture. His gaze landed on the bed in the middle of the room but he quickly looked away. He looked at the bathroom door questionably.

Clarke followed his gaze and informed, "The bathroom's there. The water doesn't warm here though so you'll have to use mine when you want to shower," she smiled, "I'll leave you alone, then. Try to get some sleep, yeah?"

He nodded again and taking that as his silent agreement, she left and shut the door behind her.

//

The door closed and Bellamy breathed a sigh of relief.

Apparently he was safe as long as he stayed in this bedroom, _his_ bedroom. But that's what Clarke had told him and he couldn't trust her. He had to remind himself for the millionth time that day. She was his owner. She might not act like that yet but she would, eventually.

It had been a long time since he'd had an owner who wasn't outright mean. It had been exactly fourteen years since the last (and only) time he'd had an owner who pretended to be good, who pretended to care for him, who'd actually taken care of him until he revealed his true self and stabbed Bellamy in the back. Cage Wallace had been Bellamy's first owner and he had been the one who taught Bellamy a very important lesson. He'd taught him not to trust his owners, _ever_. It didn't matter how old they were, if they were male or female, if they were a grounder or a sky person. Nothing about them mattered. He couldn't trust any of them.

Bellamy had only been nine when he was bought by Dante and offered to his son, Cage, on the other boy's fourteenth birthday. In the beginning, Cage had been nice to him, he'd treated him as if they were friends. That had lasted two years and by then Bellamy was sure that all the things he'd been told and taught at the training facility had been a blatant lie. It was only after Cage turned sixteen that things had started to go terribly wrong. The other boy decided it was time to start using Bellamy and to start treating him as the slave he was. The change had been a shock. Cage had completely broken Bellamy's trust and he'd taken whatever innocence Bellamy still had left. After Cage's decision had been made, no amount of pleading made the boy change his mind, just like no amount of begging stopped him from using Bellamy every time he pleased and punishing him for breaking rules he wasn't even aware existed. He'd spent another year with them before Dante took pity on him and sold him to a friend of his who would supposedly take care of him and treat him right. Bellamy had been sold to Lorelei Tsing and he'd spent the next four years of his life in hell being tortured by an incarnation of the devil itself.

He shuddered just thinking of it. He looked at his hands and saw the way they'd started to shake, just like they always did when he thought about what he'd suffered at the hands of the crazy doctor.

He shook his head to disperse those thoughts and focused on the present. He wasn't there anymore. He was here. But that didn't mean he was safe. No. He was a _slave_ , he would never be safe. Not even with Clarke. Especially not with Clarke, he corrected himself. She was his owner and in his mind owners equalled pain, suffering and humiliation. He swore to himself that he wouldn't trust her. He wouldn't trust someone who could easily break him in two without having anything happen to them. He wouldn't trust the enemy, even if the enemy was beautiful and pretended to be kind and appeared to care, even if the enemy was so very tempting.

Deciding that sleep was a good idea, Bellamy debated whether to sleep on the bed or not. Theoretically, this was his room, so this was his bed. But this could all be a test or a trick and he'd rather sleep on the cold hard floor than to suffer an unknown punishment later. Besides, it wasn't as if this was the first time he slept on the floor and he was sure it wouldn't be the last.

So Bellamy lay on the floor, trying to get comfortable even though he knew he wouldn't be able to. For the first time in forever though, he went to sleep without being hungry or thirsty and without having a new bruise decorating his skin.

With the late afternoon rays of sun softly illuminating the room, he fell asleep and dreamed of golden hair and warm deep blue eyes, the kind he wouldn't mind drowning in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure I'll be able to update this weekend but I will try to ^.^
> 
> Please leave kudos and/or a comment with your opinion, I would really like to know what you thought <3
> 
> xxx


	6. Chapter IV - Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey *-*
> 
> First of all, I want to apologize for the monumental delay in updating this story. I am obviously not capable of conciliating studying and writing :/
> 
> I take my last exam next Wednesday and then I'm officially on holidays so hopefully the updates will be more frequent after that :)
> 
> I split this chapter in two, otherwise it would've taken me even longer to update
> 
> I alternated between Clarke and Bellamy's POV again ^.^
> 
> I hope you like it <3
> 
> xxx

Clarke was pacing. She was aware of it but couldn't make herself stop. It wasn't that she was worried. Not exactly. She was more nervous.

The boy hadn't come downstairs yet but that wasn't what was keeping her in this state. No. The fact that it was already dark outside and her mom and Kane hadn't come home or called yet was the reason for her pacing.

She knew of course that sometimes council meetings took a while, having your mom belong to the council would teach you that. But she also knew they only took this long if the members disagreed on something and couldn't get to an understanding or if they were discussing something serious.

She was praying it wasn't the latter. It never meant anything good when it was the latter.

 _Finally_ , she saw the headlights from Marcus' car passing through the open gates. A few minutes later he and her mom were coming through the door.

Kane kissed her forehead and headed for the kitchen. Realizing her mom was planning on doing the same, she grabbed her arm before she could follow him.

"Why did you take so long?"

"Clarke, you know council meetings can take hours. It's not the first time– "

She interrupted before her mom could get another word out, "I do know they can take hours. And I also know it's a bad sign when they do. So, why did you take so long? What was it about?"

Abby sighed, "Honey– "

Clarke didn't need to hear whatever it was her mom had been about to say. She knew that tone of voice all too well. It was the same placating tone her mom used when she wanted Clarke to stop with the questions. And the majority of times she wanted Clarke to stop with the questions was because she knew Clarke would _hate_ the answers.

"Mom," she said, warningly, "just tell me. You know I'll ask Wells and find out anyway if you don't."

This time her mom didn't argue. "What I'm about to tell you is classified and it's not public knowledge. Not yet at least. And please keep in mind that nothing concrete has been decided yet, okay?"

She could hear the hidden warnings. "Okay."

Abby took a deep breath as if she needed the extra air, the extra bit of courage, to tell her and Clarke steadied herself.

"Some members of the council want to take a few of the slave's liberties away."

"What liberties? They– "

" _Clarke_. This is serious. And I'm not finished," Abby cut in, "They also want to build proper facilities to train slaves before auctioning them instead of training them at auction houses."

"That's ridiculous. They can't– "

"They can. And they probably will. The decision will be made next week and then it'll be approved by Thelonious."

"Can't he– "

"No. You know he can't. And even if he could, I'm not sure he would." Abby shook her head, "It's down to three votes."

"You mean thousands of lives are in three people's hands?"

Abby sighed again, "Honey, I know you're upset, but–"

"I'm not upset. Upset doesn't even begin to cover it. I'm beyond pissed. And disappointed. I can't believe– I don't understand how they can even consider doing this. These people have had their lives taken away from them. They were stripped of their rights, their choices, their _freedom_. They don't deserve this. They don't deserve to be treated like this because of a war that happened centuries ago. This is wrong and unfair and–"

"Clarke," her mom interrupted sharply. "That's enough. You know I despise this as much as you do but it's thoughts and words like those that get you in the same predicament as that boy upstairs."

"And what if it were thoughts like mine that got him in that _predicament_? And even if it weren't. What makes him worth less than me?" Clarke challenged.

Her mom's reply came after a tired sigh. "You couldn't help him or anyone if you were a slave, Clarke."

Clarke froze. For one terrifying moment she thought her mom had somehow found out about New York and _knew_.

But then she continued, "You're a free person, Clarke. And that boy upstairs is safe because of that. If you weren't free, if you were a slave, who knows where he would be right now and with who and doing what. I know you think you deserve to be a slave as much as–"

Clarke scoffed. "I don't think I deserve to be a slave. I just don't think that _they_ deserve to be one. Everyone deserves to be happy and to feel safe and to not have a miserable life."

"I know."

Just as Abby was about to say something, Marcus charged into the room, interrupting their argument, and demanded, "Where's the boy?"

Clarke sighed. "He's in his room."

"His room?"

"Yes. I gave him one of the guest rooms and told him no one would enter it without his express permission." Her voice was laced with warning and as she said this, she looked at her mom and Kane, shooting them both a look as if daring them to contradict her.

Her mom agreed, as if they hadn't been arguing just minutes before. "Good. That boy deserves to have privacy. I doubt he's had right to much of it in the past. And he deserves to feel safe."

Marcus nodded and asked, "And about earlier?"

"I took care of it. I managed to open the door, we talked and he calmed down. I made him burgers after."

"So everything's alright?"

"Yeah." Clarke smiled for good measure. Alright wasn't the exact word she would use to describe the situation but she didn't need Marcus and Abby worrying about it. She could take care of the boy without them accidentally getting in the way.

"Good." The relief she heard in Kane's voice and the way the tension left his body warmed her heart.

Then the doorbell rang. Clarke wondered who it was before she remembered she'd ordered dinner.

"Dinner," she answered Kane and Abby's unspoken question. "It was getting late and I figured neither of you would feel like cooking when you got home."

"Thank you, sweetie," her mom said obviously grateful at the same time Kane smiled and said, "I'll get it."

She laughed. "You're welcome."

A few minutes later Kane was back, three bags of food in his hands.

"Smells good," he remarked.

Shaking her head, Abby asked, "Do you want me to go get the boy?"

Out of nowhere a surge of possessiveness hit Clarke. She couldn't explain it. The boy wasn't hers. Well, technically he was according to the law, but not in any way that mattered to Clarke. Besides, she never really gave two shits about the law and she wasn't about to start now. 

However, it wasn't just possessiveness that dictated her answer. She knew that if it was her mom who went to get him, the boy would feel more intimidated and scared. She didn't want him to feel like that, especially not here, not with her. She wanted him to feel comfortable.

"I think it might be better if I go. He doesn't really know you. I'm sure I won't make him as nervous."

Her mom looked as if she was going to argue but thankfully Marcus intervened, "Yeah. No offense, sweetheart, but you'll probably scare him."

Abby scoffed, "I'm not scary."

Clarke had to disagree and apparently Marcus also had to because he said, "Trust me. You _can_ be scary."

Abby glared and the face she made had Clarke laughing.

Kane took two steps back, raised his hands and, also laughing, teased, "See what I mean?"

Abby rolled her eyes and informed them that she was going to lay the table.

Clarke shook her head and, letting out another laugh, headed upstairs.

//

Bellamy woke up with a groan. He wasn't sure how long he had slept for but it probably wasn't for more than an hour or two judging by the sun that still hadn't set.

He was just wondering what had woken him, when he registered the sharp pain in his stomach.

He was on his feet as soon as he felt the bile clawing its way up his throat and fell to his knees on the bathroom floor. He had just lifted the toilet's lid when he started to throw up everything he'd eaten earlier.

After a few minutes, he got up, washed his face and returned to the room with a now empty stomach.

He had been so stupid. He shouldn't have eaten so much.

And okay, he knew two burgers wasn't that much food but it was more than his stomach could take after being starved for weeks. And Bellamy knew this. He'd learned it from past experiences, none of each had been pleasant. He knew that he shouldn't eat much even if his owners offered him food, which they usually did, to taunt him.

But he hadn't eaten a burger in so long and the one Clarke had prepared him had tasted so good. He hadn't been able to say no when she'd offered him another.

 _Stupid_. He knew better.

He sighed in frustration. He was still feeling nauseous and his stomach still hurt but that was the least of his problems. He had no idea when Clarke was planning on feeding him again and what food he did get would still be minimal. His biggest concern was the fact that he was living with a new owner, who he barely knew. Not that he _wanted_ to know Clarke. He didn't. All he wanted from his owners was distance and he was rarely granted that. Still, it would be nice to know what to expect from her.

Bellamy shook the thoughts from his head. He didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to think about anything. He didn't want to have to worry about anything.

Thinking and worrying made him tired and he was already exhausted. He felt like all the energy had been drained from his body.

Sighing, he decided he should get some more rest. He was sure he would need the energy later. Even if by some miracle Clarke didn't use him later that night, he would need to be on high alert later.

Decision made, he lay on the floor again not even sparing the bed a glance to avoid temptation and closed his eyes.

This time though, sleep didn't come easy and it took him a while to fall into an uneven slumber.

***

It was some time later that Bellamy woke up again.

Even from the floor he could see that the sun had already set and it was starting to get dark, so he knew he'd slept for a couple of hours but it didn't feel like it. His body was still thrumming with exhaustion and his rumbling stomach did nothing to help. Besides he hurt everywhere and his muscles were screaming with every little movement. Sleeping on the floor had obviously been a bad idea. But it couldn't be worse than if he'd slept on the bed and then had to endure the punishment. He shuddered just thinking about it. If he felt like this and no one had laid a hand on him yet he couldn't imagine what he would feel like after– 

The doorbell rang, startling Bellamy out of his thoughts. He jumped to his feet a second later as a million thoughts raced through his mind.

Who could it be? There had been guests at the house earlier. Had they left and were others arriving now? But why would anyone come at this hour?

Bellamy started to panic. With his previous owners, it was never good when guests came to the house at such a late hour. At least it was never good for Bellamy. He was sure the guests and his owners had always had a great time. He shuddered in repulsion.

He couldn't stand the wait. Not knowing for sure what would happen to him, what they would do to him and when and with what. Not knowing who would inflict the pain this time. It wasn't as if knowing made it easier but at least he could be somewhat mentally prepared, at least he wouldn't be taken by surprise.

So Bellamy crossed the room but paused with his hand on the door's handle. If he did this, there was no going back. And if he was caught there was no telling what Clarke might do, what his punishment would be. Just as he was about to back down, another thought crossed his mind. There was nothing she could do that the other person downstairs couldn't do himself. And there was nothing she could do to him that hadn't been done by someone else before. That, he was sure of.

Besides, it could be a while before they came to get him and he was sure he would drive himself crazy if he stayed here, just waiting.

With these thoughts in mind, Bellamy carefully opened the door and crept into the hallway. He could hear several voices downstairs but couldn't understand what was being said. He moved further down the hallway until he was at the opening of the stairs and what he heard there made him freeze and his blood run cold.

"Do you want me to go get the boy?" It was the woman from earlier's voice, Clarke's mother.

He stumbled away and a second later found himself back in his room.

He was breathing heavily though he wasn't sure why. It wasn't the first time he had to entertain a guest. And it wasn't as if he had believed Clarke when she'd assured him he was safe here with her. He'd known this would happen. Hell, as soon as he'd heard the doorbell he'd known it was for him. Well, he hadn't known _known_ but he'd suspected. However, now that his suspicions had been confirmed… But he had been expecting this. Hadn't he?

Bellamy raked his hands through his hair. He didn't know what was wrong with him. This had happened millions of times. He'd been going through situations like this and worse for longer than he cared to admit. And sure, if he was being honest he'd have to admit he was always nervous, always scared when he had to service someone other than his owners. Because from his owners he usually knew what to expect, but from a total stranger? He was often left guessing and picturing the worst case scenarios and when the time actually came, nothing he had imagined could have prepared him for the real deal.

So yes, he was scared. He was terrified and in his opinion he had every right to be.

That wasn't the problem. The problem was deep down he was disappointed. And he wasn't sure if it was in himself or in Clarke. Honestly, he didn't know which one would be worse.

To add to the situation, he also felt a strange twinge of betrayal. And as much as he tried to, he couldn't understand why. He hadn't believed Clarke. He hadn't. He sure as hell didn't believe her now. He had been waiting for something like this to happen so why– 

Someone knocked on the door.

"Hey," there was a pause and then, "It's Clarke."

He felt himself start to relax before he caught himself. He didn't answer. Was he supposed to answer?

"I just came to get you for dinner"

He should say something. He should do something, like open the door. But he didn't. He was rooted on the spot.

"Are you there?" 

And Bellamy didn't think he was imagining the concern in her voice. Of course she was probably worried because if he wasn't here, if he'd ran, she wouldn't have her new little slave anymore. And who would entertain her guest then?

She knocked on the door again. "Are you okay?"

Again he gave no answer.

"Can you open the door, please?" Her voice was on the verge of desperate and it was weird to hear it sound like that because she seemed like a collected person, the kind of person who could keep calm in the most stressful situations.

But not even hearing Clarke's voice taking that tone broke Bellamy from the stupor he was in. He couldn't find his voice, couldn't make himself move.

"I'm really sorry, but I'm coming in."

And as soon as she said those words he felt strangely relieved, because that meant she was worried, that she wouldn't just give up on him. It meant she cared.

And then reality came crashing down on him. She wasn't leaving. She was coming in. She was coming in and she would see him standing there in the middle of the room doing nothing. She would realize he was fine, that he was perfectly capable of opening the door and letting her in but chose not to. Not that it had actually been his _choice_ , but she wouldn't see that, she wouldn't care about that.

The door opened before Bellamy could start panicking any further and before he had the chance to come up with an explanation, an excuse, a plan, something, anything.

And then Clarke was there, standing in the doorway, eyes wide and frantic, quickly surveying the room before landing on him. She released a breath and her shoulders dropped a fraction.

"You're here," she said, obviously relieved.

Had she really thought he'd run away? He wasn't _that_ stupid. Not anymore. He knew the punishment runaway slaves suffered through when they were caught. He'd suffered through them himself, more than once. He had absolutely no intention of going through something like that again, especially when he knew it was pointless.

He didn't trust his voice so he settled for nodding.

"My mom and Kane are back so I came to get you for dinner."

She didn't mention the guest. Did that mean she thought he didn't know that whoever rang the doorbell was downstairs waiting for him? Did she want it to be a surprise? Was she expecting to see the look on his face when he realized what was going on? Probably. He internally scoffed. Safe. Yeah, right. Clarke was probably as sick as all his previous owners, she just didn't let it show. Yet. But she would. And he would have to be ready when she did.

He cleared his throat and tried to stand tall. He wasn't sure if he managed. "I heard the doorbell."

When she opened her mouth, he cut her off. "Can I at least prepare myself?"

Clarke smiled and it seemed so honest it almost fooled him. Almost.

"You don't have to prepare for anything. It's just dinner, it's not like it's a banquet. Besides, when it's just the three of us, we never do anything formal. You being there won't change that."

"But–"

"Clarke," it was her mother calling from downstairs. "Dinner's on the table. It's getting cold."

He heard Kane's voice reprimanding in the background, "Abby."

Clarke rolled her eyes. "Come on."

"Wait." She stopped, looked at him expectantly. "Please. I'll be quick. _Please_."

Her face scrunched in confusion. He didn't know how else to ask her. But he didn't want to go downstairs like this. After dinner they probably wouldn't even bother with prepping him. He was still sore, he didn't know how well he would be able to handle this. If she'd just give him a few minutes he could at least open himself a little. It wasn't ideal and it wouldn't be nearly enough to make it a painless experience but at least that way it wouldn't hurt as much.

"I don't understand."

"I–" He sighed and his shoulders slumped.

She took a few steps forward and stopped right in front of him.

Bellamy did his very best not to move away, to stay as still as possible. It wasn't easy but he managed.

Then she lifted her hand towards his face as if she was going to touch him. And even though he didn't flinch or shy away, she stopped mid-motion and let it drop to her side. The way she did it though, led Bellamy to believe her touch wouldn't have hurt and he couldn't help but feel disappointed that he hadn't gotten to feel it. As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he chastised himself. He wanted his _owner_ to _touch_ him. It was pathetic. _He_ was pathetic.

Clarke's voice broke him out of his thoughts.

"I don't know what's going through your head," the way she said it though and the way her eyes had softened, made Bellamy believe otherwise. "You're obviously scared but there's no reason for you to be. We're just having dinner."

"I heard the doorbell." He stated again, aiming for defiant but probably failing by a mile.

She nodded. "I ordered food earlier. It was just the delivery guy."

It made sense, but still.

"I heard your mother asking if she should come get me," he said, less sure.

"We didn't want to dine without you."

She sighed but not in the exasperated way his owners did just before delivering a blow. Clarke sighed like she was sad, not quite disappointed, just– 

"Look. If it makes you this uncomfortable, you can stay here and I'll bring you a plate of food from the kitchen."

Bellamy wasn't sure what made up his mind. It could've been the way her expression was never guarded, like she had nothing to hide. Or it could've been the way she spoke, always so soft and calm and patient, like she had all the time in the world for him. It could've been the way she kept giving options and letting him choose. Either way, something in her demeanour inspired confidence, trust and a sense of safety Bellamy hadn't felt in ages. And even though it was reckless and irrational and probably stupid, he agreed to go with her.

"No. It's not necessary. I'll go."

"You sure?"

And the fact that she asked that after he'd already given his answer, the fact that she apparently cared enough that she wanted to make sure he was comfortable with his choice, led him to think he made the right decision.

"Yeah. I'm sure."

He tried to smile and probably failed monumentally but her eyes widened slightly and she grinned back, so it was worth it.

Then she was turning and leaving the room, with him hot on her heels.

Only when Bellamy heard Kane and Abby's voice getting louder and louder as he and Clarke got closer to the living room did he feel new nerves starting to settle in the pit of his stomach.

Just as he was starting to second-guess his decision, Clarke turned as if sensing his discomfort and gave him a reassuring nod. "It's okay."

And, after taking a deep breath, he felt something loosen inside of him and inexplicably started to relax.

They were in the living room a second later, Clarke standing slightly in front of him like a shield.

He took in the people in the room and just like Clarke had promised there was only Kane and Abby. Strangely enough, that didn't surprise him as much as he thought it should have.

He'd seen Kane earlier and just like before, the man seemed nice, he even smiled and nodded.

Abby on the other hand… He hadn't met her yet but he felt like he'd seen her before. He felt like he knew her from somewhere. And then he gasped and backed away until his back hit a wall because– Because he did know her. He knew who she was. He knew her. He _knew_ her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the next chapter (that will probably be up next week) we'll understand Bellamy's reaction to seeing Abby and see how the dinner goes ^.^
> 
> Once again, I'm sorry for not updating sooner, I hope you haven't given up on this story yet :)
> 
> Please leave a comment with your opinion and/or kudos if you liked it <3
> 
> xxx


	7. Chapter IV - Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey ^^
> 
> So, the new chapter is _finally_ here. Sorry I'm so slow with the updates :/
> 
> I wrote part of this when it was already late so forgive me if the last part is a bit crappy, but I really wanted to finish it so I could post it.
> 
> Also, I don't think I've mentioned it before, though I probably should have, but the title is from Taylor Swift's song Ours (though the song has no relevance whatsoever in this story)
> 
> Anyway, I hope you like it <3
> 
> xxx

Bellamy couldn't honestly understand how he hadn't connected the dots before. He knew her name was Abby and he knew Clarke's last name was Griffin. But with the stress the last couple of hours had brought him, it hadn't even crossed his mind to put the two names together.

Abby Griffin.

Abby Griffin, as in his mom's best friend Abby Griffin.

Memories he'd tried so hard to lock in the back of his brain to avoid the pain they'd bring broke free unbidden.

Images of him nestled at his mom's side while going through a handful of photos she had taken earlier that day flooded his mind.

He remembered his mom showing him a photo of a smiling couple, pointing at the woman and explaining to him that she was her best friend, which led to her telling him a bunch of stuff about Abby, their friendship and the craziness they'd been through while growing up together.

He remembered seeing a picture of a little girl with blond curls that reached her shoulders and striking blue eyes, who his mom had told him was Abby's daughter, only a year younger than him. He remembered asking if he could meet her, if she could be his friend. He remembered how his mom's eyes had filled with tears she had refused to shed in front of him before she'd shaken her head and smiled sadly at him.

He was brought back to the present when he felt Clarke's hands on him. She was grabbing his face with both hands and her mouth was moving, forming words he couldn't make out.

Abby knew his mom. Did she know about him too? Did she know who he was? Was it possible that– 

No. He couldn't let himself even consider that possibility. His mom trusted Abby implicitly. Even so, he couldn't help but wonder if it was that trust that got her killed.

That thought was like cold water to his system and he was finally able to focus on Clarke enough to understand what she was saying.

"–on my voice. Yeah, that's it. Just breathe with me. Okay. Okay."

Her hands dropped from his face as she took a step back away from him and ran her hands through her hair, letting out a relieved breath and a muttered _'Oh my god'_.

Behind her, Kane and Abby were looking at him, a mix of confusion and concern in their eyes.

Bellamy took another deep breath before croaking out, "I'm sorry. I–"

Bellamy had no idea what to say, how to explain what had just happened. Thankfully, Kane cut short his apology before it could turn into a stuttered plea.

"It's fine. Don't worry."

"Yeah. Let's just have dinner," Abby added.

Bellamy couldn't make himself look at her, though.

Clarke nodded and smiled.

Bellamy sighed inaudibly and followed them to the table.

Before he could ask, Clarke pulled back a chair and motioned for him to sit. He hesitated and looked to Kane and Abby for confirmation but they were talking quietly to each other and weren't even paying attention to him. And why would they? _Clarke_ was his owner and despite them being older than her, it was her he responded to, it was her orders he had to follow.

With that thought in mind, he sat down and tried to relax. All he had to do was go through this dinner and whatever came after and then he could hopefully get some much needed rest.

He tried not to feel crowded when Clarke sat down next to him, Kane in front of him and Abby in front of Clarke.

He didn't really understand. The table wasn't small by any means, it was long and at least eight people could sit and dine comfortably there. Why were they all seated as if it was a table for four? Kane and Abby should sit at the head of the table. A second later though, when he saw the soft look in Kane's eyes as he gazed at Abby, he thought maybe he understood a little better after all. It wasn't about power, their positions on the table, it was about wanting to be close to each other, caring and showing it. And, okay, maybe it wasn't as weird as he'd first thought.

The three of them served their own plates.

Just as Bellamy was starting to bitterly wonder if they had gotten him downstairs just for him to sit with them and watch them eat, Clarke made him a plate which had as much food as hers.

It was too much. There was absolutely no way he could eat all that food and not throw up halfway through it before he could even make it to the end.

Clarke placed a hand on his arm and he jerked, startled.

She removed her hand, her eyes apologetic. "You don't have to eat all of it. Just what you want, what you feel like eating. It's totally okay and there won't be any consequences."

He nodded but wasn't sure if he believed her. If it had been an hour earlier, he probably stupidly would have.

It was stupid. Bellamy knew that. But somehow he had this inexplicable feeling that she was telling the truth, that he was safe and they wouldn't hurt him. And he wanted to believe her, he needed to believe her so bad because he didn't know how much longer he could go on without anyone on his side, without anyone he could believe in. But _feelings_ like these didn't take him anywhere. He had past experiences weighing on one side and this feeling in his gut weighing on the other. It wasn't too hard to guess which side weighed more. And yet…

He wanted to groan in frustration. He was having dinner with the people who controlled his life now and he was thinking of why he should trust one of them. It was neither the time nor the place. And what was he saying? There shouldn't even be a time or a place. Thoughts like those shouldn't even exist, not in his mind, not anywhere. No one in his or her right mind considers trusting their owner. And still, here he was, doing exactly that.

He tried to reason with himself. It wasn't exactly trust. But he couldn't deny it was the beginning of it. 

He inwardly sighed. He wasn't _that_ stupid. There had to be a reason. And if he really thought about it, there was more than one possible explanation. It could be the way she managed to get him to calm down even when he knew logically he should be worrying. It could be the incredulous way she'd looked at Dax when she saw Bellamy kneeling beside him in her doorway or the hatred he heard in her voice every time she spoke to his old master. It could be the image he'd created of her, a girl who, even though she was young, didn't seem scared to face on the world. And he was almost sure she didn't hold back when she was giving people a piece of her mind. In a way, Clarke reminded him of his sister. Octavia was like that too. She was fierce and brave and was always able to soothe him, even when he should be the one comforting her, he was her big brother after all.

In the end, Bellamy barely touched his dinner. He was confused, frustrated and angry at himself. So what if he had some reasons to trust Clarke? She was his owner, he was sure he could come up with hundreds more _not_ to trust her if he let himself think about it. Besides, the reasons he did have weren't all that viable.

Clarke's voice broke him out of his thoughts. "Can I take your plate?"

He nodded, his appetite seemed to have vanished.

She didn't say anything, just picked his plate along with hers and took them to where he guessed the kitchen was.

He looked around the table and only then did he notice he was alone with Kane, he wasn't even aware Abby had left the table.

His body automatically stiffened up but Clarke came back before his brain could flood with theories that would send him into a panic.

"Do you want to go to your room or would you rather stay here and watch TV? You must be tired, it's fine if you want to go upstairs."

He was tired and he did want to go to his room.

He nodded. "I'd rather go upstairs."

He only realized he'd spoken after the words had left his mouth but Clarke only smiled and said, "Okay, go ahead."

Bellamy got up and left the room. At the bottom of the stairs though, he hesitated.

Without thinking too much over it and without giving himself an opportunity to change his mind, he turned back. "Thank you. Goodnight."

He shot up the stairs before either Kane or Clarke could say anything. However, he still caught the stunned look in Clarke's eyes.

Once in his room, he closed the door and laid on the floor again, though this time he decided to use the soft carpet as a cushion.

He thought over the events of tonight. He'd panicked and the only thing everyone had apparently cared about was his well-being, which was suspicious but not something he dwelt on. He'd zoned out during the entire dinner and didn't listen to a word that had been spoken, which was something he _never_ did. He was always alert when in the company of his owners.

He didn't know what was wrong with him. He figured it was probably the lack of sleep and the exhaustion he felt deep in bones that were leaving him more vulnerable.

Another thing that was bothering him was the fact that he had compared Octavia with Clarke. He had compared Octavia with an owner. _What_? That was only more proof that he wasn't thinking straight.

Sleep was catching up with him. Bellamy could feel his eyelids getting heavier with each second that went by.

If Abby couldn't be trusted, he shouldn't even be pondering trusting her daughter. His mom had likely made a mistake by trusting Abby. Did he really want to do the same thing with Clarke?

//

Clarke was still staring at the spot the boy had just been standing in before he'd disappeared up the stairs when her mom rushed into the kitchen.

Kane was chuckling, either at the boy's action or at Clarke's reaction to it, but upon seeing Abby and the expression on her face he stopped.

"Clarke, we need to talk." Her tone of voice left room for no discussion. "We didn't have the opportunity to discuss this before but we're discussing it now."

"What are you talking about?"

"What do you think? The _present_ that guy brought you earlier and you accepted!"

"What was I supposed to do? Let that boy leave with Dax? Did you see his face, mom? And the way he looked and his posture and the bruises… There was no way in hell I was going to let him stay with Dax."

"Clarke. I know this is a sensitive subject for you. It is for me too, but that boy is one case in thousands of cases. You can't help everyone."

"I know that," she was doing her best to help as many as she could though. "But if I can help him why shouldn't I?"

"Put your emotions aside for a moment, Clarke. Try to be reasonable and think rationally for once. That boy is unstable at best. You saw what happened earlier and what happened just now before dinner. What are you going to do? He can stay here for a few days, but what happens when you go back to New York? You leave in less than a week, in two days probably if you get your way. Are you just planning on taking him with you? It's too great of a responsibility. He's a person, not a pet."

"I know he's a person. That's why I intend to treat him as one and not as just a number, another _case_ ," she spat angrily.

She'd actually forgotten Marcus was there until he intervened. "Let's keep it down, okay? That guy doesn't need to wake up because you two are arguing. Clarke, take a deep breath and calm down, you know how your mom is sometimes– "

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Clarke would've found it funny if she wasn't so upset.

"–so just cut her some slack. And Abby, this is Clarke's decision, she's old enough to make it on her own. Just stay out of it, alright?"

"But– "

Clarke's phone started ringing, saving her from hearing whatever her mom was about to say.

She gave Abby a pointed look and said, "It's Wells, I'm gonna talk to him."

As she climbed the stairs she could hear Kane's murmuring voice and Abby's sigh.

She picked up as soon as she stepped inside her room.

"Hey, stranger. Thanks a lot for _not_ coming to the party."

Wells laughed on the other side. "Clarke. I'm sorry I couldn't make it."

She waited for the explanation she was sure would follow, but one never came.

"Why couldn't you make it?" She prompted.

Her question was met with silence.

"Wells?"

He sighed. "It's complicated, Clarke."

"Then uncomplicate it. Or don't. It's not like I won't listen and understand either way."

"I can't."

"Can't what? Uncom– "

"I can't tell you."

It took a second for his words to register. "What? Since when do we keep secrets from each other?"

"It's not a secret."

"Then tell me. What were you doing that was so important that you missed my birthday party?"

She wasn't upset that he hadn't come, they'd ended up sending everyone home early anyway, so there hadn't actually been a party. What was bugging her was that he wasn't telling her something, something important.

"Look, Clarke, I can't tell you," she heard the veiled _won't_ clearly. "Just drop it, please? I don't want to argue. It's your birthday."

"Yeah, it is."

"So what– "

She cut him off. "I gotta go. I'll call you tomorrow."

"Wait– "

She hung up before he could get another word out.

He didn't want to talk about something? That was cool. She hoped he also thought it was cool that she didn't want to talk. At all.

She didn't hang up because she was trying to get back at him. She wasn't like that, vindictive. She just knew she was upset and she might say something she would regret later. She needed time to cool off, before she could talk to him.

She muttered over why he wouldn't tell her something for a long while. For the majority of people it might not have been a big deal. It's as they say: everyone has secrets. But that was just the thing. They didn't. They knew each other since they were little kids and they had always been best friends. He was there for her when she needed him and she was there for him. She trusted him and he trusted her, with everything. They always talked to each other, no matter the subject, no matter how awkward the conversation was. Because they didn't keep secrets from each other. Ever.

Except this time it seemed. She couldn't think of a lot of motives that would make him keep something from her. Either he didn't trust her enough, which she immediately ruled out, or he'd done something. And that, that was a scary possibility. Both of them had done stupid things while growing up and neither of them kept it under wraps.

She wondered how badly he must've screwed up if he thought he couldn't tell her.

Clarke shook her head as if that would rid her of the haunting thoughts in there.

It was getting late and she didn't want to think about it anymore. She'd talk to him tomorrow, he'd tell her and they'd sort things out. They always did.

She was already in her pyjamas and ready to go to bed when someone knocked on her door. For a fleeting moment she'd thought it was the boy but then said someone opened the door and she knew he wouldn't ever enter her room without permission.

Her mom peeked her head inside and when she saw Clarke was still up, she came in, closed the door and sat on the bed beside her.

"Mom, I'm not in the mood– "

"I just came to apologize."

That shut Clarke up. "Honey, I know this day didn't go as you were expecting it to," Clarke snorted, "We usually have the party and the quiet dinner just us and your friends to celebrate. I know you didn't have any of that this year _and_ you ended up with someone under your care. I'm really proud of you for the way you handled things. I'm sorry if I made you think otherwise earlier. You know I love you and if you really want to keep that boy with you, if you want to take care of him, I'll support you. I'll always support you. I know I'm not always the best at demonstrating it but I'm on your side."

Clarke nodded. "I know, mom."

Abby shook her head. "I wish your dad could see you now. You turned into everything he'd hoped you would be. He would be so proud, Clarke."

Her mom swiped at her eyes. Then she placed a little box Clarke hadn't even noticed in her lap. "It's your birthday present. From me and Marcus. He said it'd be better for me to talk to you when it was just the two of us."

Clarke didn't say anything, her throat had clogged up and she knew how her voice would sound if she talked.

Inside the little box there was a silver bracelet with a pendant with the shape of a heart. The heart was covered with little lines that crossed over each other. To another person it would seem that the lines were there to beautify the ornament. Clarke knew better. The little lines represented scars that life had left her with, not physical ones, no, scars that no one saw and only she felt. And even though the heart was covered with scars it was whole and shiny and beautiful. Because no matter how many times life had screwed her over, she hadn't lost any piece of herself. She was still _her_.

"Thank you. I love it, mom."

Her mom just smiled and said, "Happy birthday, Clarke."

Then, she got up, kissed her forehead and left the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so now you know where Bellamy recognized Abby from, I hope you aren't disappointed *.*
> 
> In the next chapter I was thinking of doing a time jump of maybe two/three days, let me know what you think of that :)
> 
> Please leave a comment with your opinion and/or kudos if you liked it <3
> 
> xxx


	8. Chapter V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey :)
> 
> Here's the new chapter. The next one should be up in the next couple of days ^.^
> 
> I want to thank [Dream.Weaver.Stories](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/2049100/Dream-Weaver-Stories) for beta-ing this chapter (and the rest of this fic). You should all check out her amazing work <3
> 
> xxx

It had been three days. Three days since her birthday. Three days since Dax had left the boy with her.

They had already had dinner and Clarke was in her room, in bed, reading. Or attempting to, at least. Not that she was actually succeeding. By the fifth time she read the same page and still didn't know what it was about, she gave up and closed the book.

She couldn't focus. Normally reading was her escape but right now she couldn't focus enough to make sense of the words scripted on the page.

The reason for her lack of concentration was fairly obvious to her and so was the solution. Clarke sighed. She was leaving tomorrow. She was going back to New York. She had thought about staying for the whole week but Lincoln had called earlier saying the gang missed her. It would've been okay to stay a little while longer if he had left it at that. But he hadn't. He'd added "We need you here with us, Clarke." and she knew what that was code for.

So, Clarke was going back tomorrow. She'd already told Abby and Marcus. Who she _hadn't_ told yet, however, was the boy. And that's what was keeping her from enjoying her book.

She was leaving in less than 24 hours. The boy was probably leaving with her. And she still hadn't told him, hadn't asked him if he wanted to go with her.

She couldn't figure out if it because she was afraid of his answer, afraid he'd rather stay here than go with her, or if there was another reason behind her hesitation. But whatever it was, it didn't really matter.

She shook her head and looked at the clock on her bedside table. A quarter to midnight. They'd all come upstairs half an hour ago. He was probably still awake.

With her resolve made, she got up.

When she was standing by his door, her hand poised to knock, she hesitated again.

What if he wasn't in fact awake? She didn't want to rouse him, just so they could talk about this. And what if she scared him by coming to his room in the middle of the night? Okay, it wasn't the middle of the night, but still.

Maybe she should turn around and go back to her room. Yeah. That was probably the best option.

She took three steps away from the door before she turned back around.

She was not a coward. She could do this. Besides, what's the worst that could happen? He was either asleep or he'd give her a yes or a no. It wasn't as big of a deal as she was making it.

Plus, there was no way the boy hadn't heard her walking around in the hall and stopping directly in front of his door. She was almost a hundred percent sure he knew she was coming.

Clarke knocked and waited.

She was starting to second-guess her decision and was ready to go back to her room, when the boy opened the door.

She could feel her will crumbling at the sight of his wary eyes but she barreled on. "Hi. Sorry for bothering you at this hour but we need to talk." She saw his eyes fill with panic and rushed to add, "You don't have to worry it's not as ominous as it sounds." She forced a laugh for good measure.

The boy calmed down a bit but didn't lose his tense stance.

Finally, he stepped aside. "Okay."

Clarke hadn't been in his room since that first day. Looking around, it registered that everything was exactly the same. She didn't know what she was expecting to have changed or why she was even thinking anything would change at all. She was kind of expecting his presence in this room to be accentuated. An outsider would say nobody had been sleeping here. And for some reason that thought bothered her.

The boy closed the door and the noise helped clear her head. She turned to him.

"Okay. So. I'm–"

She stopped mid-sentence when the pillow on the floor by the bed caught her attention. Upon closer inspection, she noticed the way the carpet was rumpled as if–

"Have you– Have you been sleeping on the floor?"

There was a tense silence and then, "I– Yes. I didn't know– I wasn't sure– I'm sorry."

"No. No. Don't apologize. It's my fault, not yours. You can have the bed. Of course you can have the bed."

To demonstrate her point, she picked the pillow up from the floor and placed it on the bed. Then, she pulled back the covers. "If there's anything you're not sure you're allowed to do, anything you think you're not entitled to, just ask me, okay?"

He was staring at her, shock evident in his features. "Okay."

She nodded. "Okay. Right. Back to what I was trying to say earlier. I'm leaving tomorrow. I don't actually live here with my mom and Marcus. I moved out a while ago. I live in an apartment in New York. I have an art gallery there. And I'm going back tomorrow. I just wanted to ask you if you want to stay here or if you'd rather come with me."

He stared at her, again. "It's your decision, Clarke. You're my owner. I do what you want me to do, what you tell me – order me – to do."

She tried not to flinch at his words and was already shaking her head before he had even finished speaking. "No. It's your choice. If you want to stay here with them, you stay. If you want to come with me, you do. It's your choice."

"And if I choose wrong?"

Her heart clenched at hearing those words. Everything in the boy's mind was connected to a price. Before doing or saying anything, he probably wondered how much it would cost him, how much it would hurt.

She swallowed. "There isn't a wrong choice. Whatever you choose, there won't be any consequences. You're safe here and you'll be safe there. It doesn't matter if you're with me or them, I swear no one will hurt you."

He nodded but didn't say anything. After thinking it over for a few minutes, he finally came to a decision.

"I'll go with you."

Something in her chest loosened. "Okay. We'll take my car and leave after lunch."

The boy nodded again.

"Goodnight."

"'Night."

Clarke smiled at his soft answer. She closed his door and headed to her room, four words making her happier than she'd thought possible.

//

Bellamy got up from the floor as soon as he heard what he guessed was Clarke's bedroom door creak open. He heard her steps crossing the hall to his own door, then retreat and come right back. He was thinking she might backtrack again when she knocked.

He took a deep breath and tried to calm his nerves. There was no way he was causing a scene again, he'd done enough of that in the past few days he'd been living here.

It took him a little while to open his door, but not long enough for Clarke to deem necessary knocking again.

She was standing on the other side of the door, as he was expecting, but for some reason the sight of her took him by surprise.

He didn't have time to dwell on it, though. She immediately started talking but suddenly cut herself off.

And at her question _'Have you been sleeping on the floor?'_ he froze and inwardly started panicking.

Wasn't he supposed to sleep on the floor? Maybe he shouldn't have been greedy and used a pillow or the carpet. She probably didn't want him tainting her stuff.

He stuttered out an apology that couldn't even be called that. But she didn't think it was his fault. In fact, she blamed herself, for what Bellamy still wasn't sure, and demanded he slept on the bed.

He was both excited and terrified at the prospect of finally sleeping, just sleeping, on a real bed. And one that looked comfortable and warm too. He didn't let her see it, though, or at least he didn't think he did. She wouldn't take away what she thought didn't matter to him.

Then, when she asked him to decide if he wanted to stay or go with her, his first instinct was to let her decide. But she wasn't having any of that and insisted it was his choice, going as far as to assure him everything would be okay regardless of his decision.

He thought about it. Considered the situation, the pros and cons.

He knew it would be smarter to stay. That way he could keep an eye on Abby and try to snoop around and find out more about her, about what she knew, what she'd possibly done. However, it was safer to go with Clarke. 

Bellamy didn't consider himself a coward, not by a long shot, not after everything he'd been through and definitely not after the way he'd always handled things. But if given the choice, he would rather stay alive and it wasn't as if he fancied risking his life either.

So, in the end, he told her he'd go with her. Tomorrow. Because she was leaving tomorrow. And now, so was he.

He tried not to freak out, told himself not to think about it because it probably wouldn't even be that big of a change. Here, he was living with three people. There, he'd be living with just one. It was a good thing.

He breathed deeply. It was a good thing.

He approached the bed with the intent to lie down but at the last moment stopped himself.

He risked a glance at the door. It was still closed and there was no one there. Obviously. Why would anyone be there? Clarke had given him permission to sleep on the bed. Besides, it was late. Everyone in the house was probably asleep, in their own rooms. Everyone but him, that is. He closed his eyes and ran a hand through his hair. He needed to sleep. Tomorrow would be a stressful day, to put it lightly. He needed any rest he could get.

So, Bellamy lay on the bed and as soon as his body hit the bed, he swore every muscle in his body melted into the mattress. He pulled the covers up over his body, only leaving his head out. It wasn't even that cold, but the warmth gave him the sense of safety that people only felt when one was completely tucked into bed. It was as if the covers could protect him from everything bad.

When sleep came, Bellamy didn't even try to fight it. He thought, _It's a good thing_ , just before unconsciousness claimed him.

_Bellamy felt weird. He didn't know why, it was a sensation he couldn't explain even if he tried. It felt as if his body wasn't his. Everything felt too small, too fragile, too strange. Not him. It didn't feel as if he was him. He felt trapped._

_He finally dared to open his eyes and looked around the room as if in a haze. He knew the room he was in, knew it intimately, but couldn't place it._

_The door opened, suddenly, startling Bellamy. A boy came in._

_He had shaggy brown hair, brown warm, yet calculating eyes and an easy smile that somehow didn't belong. He couldn't be older than sixteen and apparently didn't pose any threat. Still Bellamy felt a sense of dread settle deep in his stomach._

_And again the feeling of being trapped overcame him. He felt trapped in a body that was his, but _wasn't_ , not anymore. He felt trapped in a room that was too small, too wicked, too suffocating. Trapped in a memory he didn't want to relive ever again, even though he knew there was no escaping it. No escaping the boy that had just come in or what happened next._

_"There you are. I've been looking for you everywhere," the boy – Cage, his mind supplied even as he tried to deny it – exclaimed._

_"I was here waiting for you the whole time." The words fell from his lips without Bellamy even thinking them and he realized with growing horror what was happening. It was like he was eleven all over again, but not. His twenty-three self was stuck inside his younger self, with no control whatsoever over his body or anything, and he was about to experience the first time Cage– He felt like throwing up._

_Cage's voice had an edge to it when he asked, "And how was I supposed to know that?"_

_Bellamy could feel his bottom lip start to tremble. "I'm always waiting in your room when you come from school," he defended himself. It was true. Everyday Bellamy waited for the older boy to come home so they could play._

_The slap he received as a response echoed through the room and the tears Bellamy had been trying to contain broke free. It wasn't even from the pain that spread through his skull, it was because of the act itself that Bellamy started crying._

_Cage grabbed his arm and flung in onto the bed. "I don't know how I didn't see it sooner, how I let things get to this point… You're a _slave_. You backtalk to me and you think that's okay, that I'll tolerate something like that," his voice boomed. "It isn't entirely your fault, but I'm not to blame either. My father should've trained you, but he's always been a bit too soft. I'm not though, not anymore. I've finally opened my eyes. Things will be different from now on. There'll be rules and consequences for each one you break, but there'll be time to talk about that later. We have better things to do now," he chuckled darkly._

_When Cage's hands went to his waistband, Bellamy kicked his legs and cried, "Stop."_

_Cage's fist connected with his head and he growled, "Stop struggling."_

_And Bellamy did, not because he was told to, but because the pain and the ringing in his ears prevented him from doing anything else._

_The older boy unbuttoned Bellamy's pants and proceeded to take them off._

_"On your hands and knees," Cage ordered._

_A few shoves and two slaps later, Bellamy found himself in the position Cage wanted him in._

_There were tears running freely down his face and Bellamy was openly sobbing by the time Cage positioned himself behind him._

_"This will probably hurt, but at least I was considerate enough to lube myself up. You'll learn to thank me for that."_

_And Bellamy closed his eyes, hoping, praying, he would wake up, the dream would end and Cage, the pain and everything would stop. But just like it didn't stop when it happened in real life, it didn't stop in his dream. And Cage thrust in._

//

Clarke jerked awake. She was confused as to why she'd woken up until she heard another piercing scream.

Before she knew what she was doing, she was up and running in the direction the sound had come from.

She opened her door and immediately collided with a strong body.

She was ready to attack when she heard her mom's voice, "Clarke, oh my god, are you alright?"

Only then did she realize she'd bumped into Marcus. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Abby's shoulders slumped. "We heard–"

Another agonized wail reverberated throughout the hall, cutting Abby off.

Clarke suddenly knew where the noise was coming from.

She was already heading for his door, prepared to hurt whoever was causing him pain, when a hand grabbed her arm.

"Clarke! You have no idea what's going on. You don't know who's in there."

She pulled her arm free. "I don't care," she said, scarily honest.

Then she opened the door and charged into the room, immediately going for the light switch because she couldn't see anything with the room plunged into darkness.

Clarke turned the lights on and was fully expecting to find a person attacking the boy. She wasn't expecting to see him, twisting on the bed, gripping the sheets, with tears staining his cheeks.

Abby and Marcus were equally surprised.

Clarke turned to them and, before she'd even opened her mouth, Abby said, "No. I'm not leaving so don't bother asking."

She had her reply on the tip of her tongue but Marcus beat her to it. "Abby, listen to me. That boy doesn't need us here making him feel crowded or cornered or scared. He needs someone to calm him down and make him feel safe. Like it or not, that someone is Clarke. So, you and I are going to go back to our room and let Clarke handle this, because we both know she's more than capable to."

"It's unbelievable how you two always manage to make me feel as if I'm the unreasonable one."

At Clarke's pointed look, Abby shook her head and followed Marcus out of the room.

Clarke sighed, relieved, and thanked all her lucky stars for giving her the most amazing stepdad she could've hoped for.

Then she closed the door and turned to the boy.

He was still thrashing in the bed but his cries had turned to silent whimpers.

She sat by his side on the bed and, placing her hands on his shoulder and face, gently shook him, all the while murmuring soft assurances.

The boy woke up gasping for breath and it didn't take him longer than two seconds to realize she was beside him.

His eyes widened, he crawled away and ended up falling onto the floor. That didn't stop him, though, and he continued until his back met the wall.

Clarke remained on the bed, looking helplessly at him. She didn't know what to do, which scared her even more, not just because she wasn't sure what to do to help the cowering boy on the floor but also because she always knew what to do in these situations. She was always the one the voice of reason, the one who remained calm while the others were panicking.

A few minutes went by without anything happening. Then, the boy lifted his head from his knees, which were pressed against his chest, and looked at her.

There was a question in his eyes Clarke wasn't sure how to answer but she tried anyway. "You were screaming. I thought someone was hurting you."

He swallowed and looked like he was about to say something but then refrained from speaking. His haunted eyes spoke for him. Someone _was_ hurting him, in his dream.

The boy must've seen something in her eyes or in her expression because he dropped his gaze.

"Are you okay? Do you need something?"

He shook his head. "I'm fine."

Clarke wanted to ask him if he was sure. It was fairly obvious he was anything but fine. Had he been fine, he wouldn't have woken up screaming, drenched in sweat and gasping for breath. But his eyes were begging her to not say anything, they were telling her he didn't want to think about his nightmare, much less talk about it. So, she dropped it.

"Okay, that's good."

He immediately nodded in agreement.

There was a moment of comfortable silence and Clarke wondered if it should feel more awkward between them.

"I can go now if you–"

"No," he cut her off. She was certain that at any other time he would be apologizing for it, but now he just continued. "You can stay. If you want to, of course." He sounded less sure and more desperate than he probably intended.

"Sure, I can stay. Are you going to sleep there?" she meant it simply as a joke to lighten the mood.

He shrugged, "Maybe."

She had no doubt his maybe was a concealed yes.

Clarke got up and walked to the closet, where she was almost sure her mom kept the extra blankets.

Halfway there, the boy exclaimed, "Wait! You can't– Don't–"

She turned only to find his terrified eyes on her. She wondered what could've set him off, before she realized he was scared she was leaving or at least scared of being left alone.

"It's okay. I'm not leaving," she quickly assured him. "I'm just fetching some blankets for you so you're more comfortable if you're really going to spend the night on the floor."

She knew it wasn't the first time he did. That knowledge, however, didn't make her feel any better; in fact it only served to make her feel more shitty. It was her fault. She knew the way things were. She should've been more careful, should've been clearer, should've paid more attention. It wasn't as if she was new to this.

He nodded and seemed to relax.

As Clarke expected, she found the blankets in the closet. She handed him one and one of the pillows from the bed.

"Do you want me to stay down there with you?"

"No, it's fine. You can sleep on the bed."

She nodded and lay down, turning on her side so she was facing him.

Clarke was almost dozing off, when the boy spoke, his voice soft but for once not hesitant. "Thank you. For coming when you heard me. And for staying." He paused and then added, "And for everything you've done since I got here."

Clarke swallowed and then managed to say, "Of course. Anything you need."

She closed her eyes and was positive he wouldn't say anything. But after some minutes of silence he surprised her.

"It's Bellamy," he said, his voice soft and so quiet, she had to strain to hear it. "My name," he clarified when she didn't immediately answer.

"Okay. Goodnight, Bellamy."

"Goodnight, Clarke."

She tried not to make a big deal out of it, but she was internally freaking out. He'd told her his name. Without her asking him; completely unprovoked. And even if he did it mainly because he was more vulnerable from his nightmare or because it was late at night, it still showed he trusted her. Even if it was just a little, just enough to confide in her with his name. She tried really hard not to make a big deal out of it, but in the end she couldn't. Because, whether he was willing to admit it, to her or himself, or not, it _was_ a big fucking deal. It was a sign of hope, a step in the right direction. But a sign of hope for what and a step in what direction? Clarke didn't really know how to answer those questions yet. But right now, it didn't matter, because she was sleeping only a few feet away from someone she'd come to care for in the past few days and that, that's what mattered most to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it *.*
> 
> Please leave kudos and/or a comment with your opinion, I would really like to know what you thought <3
> 
> xxx


	9. Chapter VI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey :)
> 
> Here's the new chapter. I was planning on updating sooner but apparently writing with family around is harder than I thought it would be ^^
> 
> Again, I want to thank [Dream.Weaver.Stories](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/2049100/Dream-Weaver-Stories) for editing this chapter, she's awesome <3
> 
> xxx

Bellamy woke up with a strange sense of confusion. He felt warm and comfortable though not overly so. At first, he had no idea where he was or what had happened, until it all came rushing back. Dax. The Griffin's. Clarke. His nightmare. He shuddered just remembering it. Clarke had come when she'd heard him screaming. She'd been worried about him, or at least that's how she'd made it look. She'd even stayed with him when he asked. He felt hot shame course through his body at the thought. _Pathetic._ And then, then he'd gone and told her his name. He jerked upright as the memory of that moment replayed in his brain. He immediately turned to the bed and was relieved to find it empty. He couldn't believe he told her. It was the one thing he never told anyone. That and anything concerning Octavia, but his owners didn't usually go there because they automatically assumed he didn't have any relatives or that if he did, he didn't know any of them. Over the years, one of the things that he took comfort in was that his name had remained his. Names had power and the people who bought him and abused him called him all sorts of things but never had anyone called him Bellamy. Because they hadn't known. Because he hadn't told them, even when they asked and pressed and hurt him. It was the only thing that, in the end, remained untouched, untainted, his. And now… Now, Clarke knew. She knew and it was his own fault. Bellamy wasn't sure what scared him the most. The fact that Clarke could use his name however she pleased and he suspected that she had the power to break a part of him that no one had managed to even graze before, or the fact that he believed she wouldn't let him down, she wouldn't hurt him with her new knowledge.

He wanted, needed, more time to think about it, but just like every other time in his life, his wishes were ignored.

The door opened cautiously and Clarke's head peeked inside. Her eyes landed on him and her features softened.

"You're awake. I was just coming to get you. It's almost noon and lunch is already on the table. We're leaving afterwards, if you still want to come."

"Yes," he answered, maybe a little too fast. But it wasn't like he could go back on his word nor did he want to, especially not after the events of last night.

She smiled. "Great. I'll be downstairs." And with that, she left.

Bellamy took a quick shower and got dressed in another pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt Kane had lent him.

He breathed deeply and looked around the room. It was just like it had been the first time he entered it except for the rumpled sheets in the bed.

He sighed, picked the hoodie from the floor, his only 'belonging', and went downstairs.

//

Clarke was currently trying not to snap at her mom. It wasn't as easy as one might think.

Abby was once again numbering the reasons why Clarke shouldn't leave so soon and making up a few more for why she should leave the boy here.

She wasn't leaving Bellamy. Not after he'd told her he wanted to go with her and confirmed it again this morning. Not after what had happened last night. Not after he'd trusted her with his name.

"Mom, we already had this fight before, remember? On my birthday? And you admitted you were wrong and basically told me to do what I thought was best?"

"Clarke, but that was before. If I had my doubts before, last night just proved that I was right. That boy is a mess, completely unstable. You don't know him, he could be dangerous, for all we know!"

Clarke took a deep steadying breath before she said something she might regret later. "I don't care. I'm leaving right after lunch and he's coming with me. End of discussion."

"Why are you being so stubborn? At least stay for a few more days and–"

"I can't. I already told you, I can't."

"Why?"

"Because. Lincoln and the rest of the guys need me. I have my gallery there and my life to get back to. I have to go back. I know you're not happy with that but that's just the way things are."

"So you're putting your needs before his?"

Clarke bristled at the accusation. "That's not fair. And it's not true. I need to go back to New York and the boy needs peace and quiet and time to heal. Your presence isn't helping him in the least."

"My presence?" Abby echoed disbelievingly.

"Yeah. Haven't you noticed? He freaked out when he first saw you. He tenses and shrinks back every time you come near him or try to touch him. You make him nervous and scared and it's unsettling."

"And you think it's my fault?"

"Who else's would it be? Look, mom, I don't know what happened or what you did," Clarke narrowed her eyes, "and maybe it's better that way. But we both need to get away from here."

Her mom opened her mouth, no doubt to make a retort that would make Clarke beyond pissed, but at that moment, Bellamy appeared in the doorway.

He looked small and unsure and Clarke hated that look on his face.

"You're here," she smiled his way but he wouldn't meet her eyes. "Okay, let's have lunch so we can go."

"Clarke," her mom's tone was restrained, not happy, "we have a conversation to finish. Can we–"

She interrupted. "No, we can't. I'm done talking. I'm pretty sure I got my point across."

Clarke didn't wait for a reply, just turned and joined Bellamy at the table.

Lunch passed fairly quickly. Her mom was practically glaring at her from across the table and Bellamy sat beside her, tense, barely eating anything.

Not for the first time since they sat at the table, she wondered how much Bellamy had heard of her conversation with Abby. Whatever it was, it was enough to leave him upset.

Marcus was nowhere to be seen and her mom wouldn't tell her where he was, no matter how many times she asked. Clarke wasn't sure she would've gotten an answer even if her mom hadn't been angry. That thought only served to make her nerves worse.

When the time to leave actually came, Clarke started doubting her decision to leave so soon for the first time.

Her mom said a curt goodbye, told her she hopped everything went well, though her tone suggested the exact opposite, kissed her on the cheek and went upstairs without even directing one look at Bellamy.

Bellamy, who was standing by her side, shoulders hunched protectively and hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.

He'd already offered or more tried to take her bags so he could carry them to her car but she hadn't let him. In another situation, one where he wouldn't see it as an order or obligation, she would've let him, probably would've teased him about it if he hadn't offered. But this wasn't another situation as much as she found herself wishing it was, so she grabbed her bags and carried them to the car herself.

After packing the car, she was ready to go when she saw Marcus' heading up the driveway.

He got out, engulfed her in a hug and all but whispered in her ear, "Be careful, okay? And don't worry, your mom will come around. Take care of that boy, Clarke. He might not say it and maybe you won't notice, but he'll need you."

She laughed softly, trying to ease the atmosphere. "Geez, one would think we were leaving for good. We'll be fine." Then she lowered her voice. "I'll look after him."

Marcus nodded.

"Where were you, anyways?"

He shrugged in that uncompromising way. "Running errands."

"Errands? Really? That's the best you can come up with?"

He shook his head. "Go on, Clarke. You don't want to be late."

She narrowed her eyes at him but ultimately knew he was right. It would take a few hours to get home, they had to leave now if they wanted to make it before sunset.

She kissed him on the cheek and hugged him again. "Bye."

"Drive safely." 

Marcus nodded to Bellamy once and Bellamy nodded back, a sort of unspoken agreement between them.

She got in the car and motioned for Bellamy to get in as well.

He hesitated briefly before taking a breath as if steeling himself and then got in the passenger seat. Once inside, he looked at her for confirmation and when she smiled and nodded, his shoulders relaxed a fraction.

She started the car and this time it was her who took a deep breath. It was going to be a long drive.

***

After two hours of driving, they stopped in a restaurant by the side of the road and Clarke insisted Bellamy should eat something since he'd barely touched the food at lunch.

He was either hungry or too tired to argue and ate what they ordered without complaining.

A little over half an hour later, they were back on the road.

The rest of the drive wasn't nearly as awkward as the initial hours. Bellamy seemed more relaxed and Clarke turned on the radio.

All in all, it wasn't nearly as 'painful' as she thought it would be.

***

They reached New York three hours later, around 7pm.

Clarke took the bags from the truck and led them towards the building.

All the tension that had left Bellamy's body during the drive was back. She tried not to sigh, she knew it wasn't his fault, that he had no reason to believe her, but she wished he could have a little more faith in her. She hadn't been anything but kind and open to him, so far. _So far._ That was probably what he was afraid of, that her behavior would change abruptly, that she would start treating him differently. She had no idea how to prove to him it wouldn't, that this was her.

The elevator took them to the third floor, her floor. If anything, the small enclosed space only left him more nervous.

He breathed out a sigh of relief as soon as the elevator stopped and they stepped out.

She tried to ignore the prickling feeling at the back of her mind saying there was a reason for why he didn't like small spaces, she ignored the small voice nagging her to find out the story. She knew it wouldn't help either of them if she asked anything about it now. But she would, _later_.

For now, though, she just dropped the bags in the entry and gave Bellamy a small tour of the apartment. It wasn't much, it certainly wasn't big and it was nothing like her mom's house, but she liked it better that way. It was hers, small, cozy, comfortable, _home_. It was home in a way that Abby's house just wasn't.

Clarke showed Bellamy the kitchen with the island in the middle instead of a table. The living room, if you could call it that, consisted of a large couch, two smaller ones and a tv. There were pillows scattered all over the floor, probably there since the last time the gang had spent the night. She showed him the bathroom at the end of the hall that would be his since she had her own attached to her bedroom. Next came his room and he seemed pleased to see it was smaller than the one he'd been sleeping in. Finally she showed him her room, again directly across from his, and it was impossible to ignore the way his eyes widened and his mouth opened in shock and maybe awe as he took in the drawings on her walls.

"That's– It's–" He shook his head as if to clear it and tried to find the words. "Just wow. It's amazing." Then he turned to her and his eyes widened impossibly more. "They're yours, aren't they?"

It was obviously not the first time someone complimented her art. And it wasn't the first time seeing one of her drawings left people speechless and awestruck either. But for some reason, seeing Bellamy reacting that way made her heartbeat accelerate and she felt her face warm.

"Yeah. I usually add a new one every time I can't sleep. I have an art gallery, I can take you tomorrow if you want, but these are more– I don't know. They're more special, they have a different meaning, more personal, kind of like a journal, you know?"

Which was why she normally didn't let anyone stare and study them the way Bellamy was doing.

He nodded absentmindedly. "I think I do."

She didn't think he realized he had wandered inside and was basically tracing the drawings and taking everything in. She was almost sure it had also escaped him that he had fully relaxed for the first time around her.

Despite feeling a little nervous and exposed, despite being slightly scared of what he might see, of how he might interpret some of the things on the walls, she let him look. She trusted him with a piece of herself just like he'd trusted her with a piece of himself the night before.

She left the room quietly, not wanting to disturb him.

In the kitchen, she called Lincoln. He didn't pick up. She may have thought it was payback for not answering earlier, except this was Lincoln.

She tried Octavia. The other girl picked up on the third ring.

"Hey, Clarke. You have to be like super quick. I'm in the bathroom and can't take long. We're at Lincoln's mom's having dinner."

Clarke winced in sympathy for her friend. Lincoln's family didn't share any of his views on slavery and their personalities were the complete opposite of the man she knew. She wasn't sure how he grew up to be the kind of person he was, growing up in the middle of _that_ environment.

"Okay. I just wanted to let him know I'm home. We can all meet up tomorrow if you guys want."

"Sure. Check with the rest but I think tomorrow's good. It's big, Clarke. We'll have to be careful."

"Of course. You better go, Octavia. I don't want you to get into trouble because of me."

The other girl laughed on the other side of the line. "Relax, Clarke. They're bad but there's just no way Lincoln would _ever_ let them lay a finger on me."

Clarke couldn't help but smile Octavia's words. It was obvious she believed them. And Clarke did too. Anyone would if they spent a single minute in the company of the two. "I know. It's one the reasons I love him. Still, there's no point in giving them more reasons to criticize."

She could picture Octavia grinning mischievously. "You only say that because you haven't seen their faces. I swear, Clarke, sometimes it's like they want to kill me but know they can't."

She laughed. "I can only imagine your satisfaction in those moments. But, seriously, you should go."

"But it's _so_ fun to test their patience. And when they snap at me and Lincoln gets all defensive and protective and shit." Octavia sighed dreamily. "It's the best feeling in the world, Clarke."

Smiling softly, she said, "I bet it is, O."

"Okay. It was nice talking to you. Don't let so much time go by without calling, Clarke. Don't laugh, I mean it."

"I know you do. Bye, Octavia."

"I'll call you later."

She hung up and was still pondering over the fact she'd never heard Octavia say goodbye in all the years they'd known each other when someone cleared their throats behind her.

Clarke turned only to find Bellamy behind her, managing to stare murderously at her while his hands shook in what she knew wasn't anger.

//

Bellamy honestly wasn't expecting Clarke's room to be anything like _this_. There weren't words to describe how incredible it all was. It was so incredible that he found himself trying to understand the meaning of some of the drawings, trying to understand some part of her. It was so incredible he didn't even realize she'd left the room.

When he found himself alone in her room, it was almost too good to be true, too tempting to resist. He started looking around. He didn't move anything out of place, didn't look or touch certain things that she would notice, but he couldn't help opening her drawers. There wasn't anything that caught his attention in any of them, they were basically filled with clothes and notebooks he felt were too private for him to even touch.

It was only when he reached her closet that everything went to hell. At first he didn't find anything suspicious, just some sneakers and two pairs of high heels and a few jackets. Then he decided to check in the upper shelf, because why not? And that's when he found her strap-on. He stared at it for a few seconds before he dropped it and backed hastily away.

He thought he understood then why Clarke had wanted to bring him with her, why she wanted to get him alone, away from her parents. This was his life. It had been his life for several years and he still wasn't used to it. He wasn't sure that was a good thing or not. In a way it was good because he'd never stopped fighting, he had never surrendered or complied, not willingly anyway. But that, fighting, not knowing and accepting his place as so many of his owners had put it, had only brought him more pain, more suffering. He was tired, sick of all this. He wanted it to stop, to stop hurting, to stop… To stop. He wanted it to end. But for it to end, he had to give up and that was the one thing he had promised himself and Octavia he wouldn't do. And he didn't intend to break that promise. Not ever.

A second later he realized he was hyperventilating. He knew. He knew and he couldn't stop it. He couldn't do anything but struggle to breathe. He tried to get the much needed air into his lungs but couldn't. It was like he had something in his throat, preventing the air from entering; like someone was squeezing his throat so hard, constricting his airways in such a way, it was impossible for him to breathe. He knew it was some kind of panic attack, but he couldn't control it. And the fact that he couldn't control it was increasing his panic even more.

He fought to get his breathing under control. It wasn't the first time something like this had happened. He just had to breathe in, hold it for four seconds and let go. He did it several more times until he was holding it for ten seconds.

His breathing was much more even than before but he felt anything but calm.

His panic was still slowly rising when he stepped inside the kitchen to confront Clarke and found her on the phone with someone. And then he heard Clarke saying Octavia's name and his panic turned to anger in the flash of a second.

And that was the second time that day everything went to hell in the span of mere minutes.

//

" _Octavia?_ " Bellamy all but growled out.

Clarke frowned in confusion. "Yeah. She's a friend of mine, one my best friends actually. Why?"

"Really? So it has nothing to do with me? You're saying you didn't go digging around and decided it would be fun to mess with my head?"

As her frown deepened and her confusion increased, the heat behind his words died.

"No. I honestly have no idea what you're talking about."

He nodded and seemed to relax only for his whole body to tense up a minute later. His face drained of color and the trembling of his hands got more noticeable.

"What about the strap-on I found on top of your closet. Do you also have no idea what I'm talking about now?"

She shook her head. Strap-on? What– Oh.

"No. Bellamy, listen to me."

He shook his head and took a step back as soon as she took one forward.

"No. You promised you wouldn't. You promised you were different. You promised I was safe. You promised. And I believed you," he admitted brokenly.

Bellamy's chest was suddenly heaving and he was struggling to breathe. She approached and he didn't even try to hide his struggle.

It was as if he was itching to get closer to his only source of comfort even as he scrambled to get away from _her_.

It was when her hand landed on his shoulder that he lashed out.

Thinking of it, touching him in that moment was probably not her smartest decision.

In a flash, she was pushed against the wall. His hand was on the wall next to her head, caging her in and his other arm was resting against her neck, not really making any pressure just showing that he could.

His face was inches from hers and his breath fanned across her face when he hissed angrily, "You need to stop acting like you care. You need to stop this whole façade. You wanted to mess with me? You did. But I can't take this anymore. I don't know if I should believe you or not. I don't know if you'll stop acting so nice and worried and shit. I'm not sure you won't act like this one moment and beat me black and blue the next. I just need to know if this is real. So tell me, is it?"

She saw the display of emotions he tried to hide in his eyes. She saw the confusion and despair, the need of being proven wrong and the fear of being proven right.

Just as she was about to open her mouth, Bellamy was ripped away from her and thrown across the floor.

Wells was hovering over him, a furious expression on his face.

Clarke was still trying to figure out what was happening, how and why Wells was there. Before she could realize his intentions, Wells landed a kick on Bellamy's side, who instinctively curled up.

Three more kicks had already landed on Bellamy's stomach by the time she reached Wells and tackled him to the floor. He was on his back, panting heavily, with Clarke on top of him.

"What the hell, Clarke?"

Her eyes widened and her anger increased tenfold.

"What the hell, Clarke?" she mimicked incredulously. "I'm not the one who was just kicking a person."

"Yeah? And I'm not the one who was pinned to a wall by my fucking slave!" he shot back, like _she_ was in the wrong here and not him.

Rationally, she knows the situation might've looked bad, but still...

"Get out," she demanded, getting to her feet and positioning herself between him and Bellamy.

"I was protecting you!" he almost shouted.

"Protecting me? Are you kidding?" she laughed humorlessly. "I think it's more than obvious that I can protect myself. Get out," she repeated, her voice hard.

Wells scoffed. "You really think I'm leaving you alone with that–"

"Get out, Wells! Now."

He eyed her for another few seconds.

"Fine," he spat, his voice bitter and angry.

He left without sparing her another glance and slammed the door.

It didn't matter right now. She'd deal with him later.

She turned to Bellamy. He hadn't moved. He was still lying there, his arms wrapped protectively around his head and his knees drawn to his chest.

When she kneeled by his side he tensed up, but that didn't stop her from laying a hand on his shoulder, even though that was what triggered him the first time.

They stayed just like that, in silence. She didn't say anything and neither did he.

After a few minutes, Bellamy started to relax. He stretched his legs and let his arms fall from his head.

Clarke couldn't hold back her gasp when she saw the bruise that was already forming on his left cheek, probably from the impact with the floor.

Bellamy lifted his eyes to hers and then looked down again. In a quiet voice, he asked, "Was that your answer?"

It took her a second to understand his question and when it dawned on her what he meant, she jerked back.

"Oh my god. No! Of course not. I didn't even know Wells was coming over. He didn't tell me anything."

He nodded and, after thinking it over, asked, "What's your answer, then?"

She took a deep breath before replying. "This is me. It isn't a façade or a lie and I'm not playing you. I do care and I worry about you. I treat you the way I do because you're a person and you don't deserve to be treated as if you weren't one just because some assholes decided that was okay. It's not. You've probably figured it out by now, but if you haven't, I'll lay it out for you. I don't agree with the way things are done here. Of course I can't go right outside and say it; that would equal death in the best case scenario. But I can say it in here, to you. And I have other ways to help, to change things. We'll talk about that in a few days. For now, you just need to know that you _can_ trust me and that you're safe. I promise. And I know it's not easy to believe me, especially not since I'm technically your owner, but you have to try. You are safe."

He opened his mouth to ask something but nothing came out. That happened two more times before he breathed deeply and rushed out, "And the strap-on?"

Clarke's answer came almost immediately. "My ex-girlfriend bought it and left it here when we broke up."

Bellamy didn't say anything but it wasn't hard to guess what he wanted to ask, so she clarified, "I'm bi." She made it sound as simple as she thought it was or at least as simple as she thought it should be.

He nodded again, didn't question or judge, just breathed out an "Okay" as the remaining tension bled out of his body.

Clarke couldn't help but ask, "How come you believe me now but didn't believe me before?"

It didn't take him long to answer. "Because now I've specifically asked you. If you were lying when you answered, that's on you and it's not completely my fault that I believed you. I know it doesn't make much sense, but..."

"No. It makes sense, I understand." Clarke assured him. She sensed there was more to it but he didn't elaborate so she didn't press him for an explanation. He'd tell her if he wanted to, when he was ready. Instead, she suggested, "Do you want to put some ice on your cheek?"

"Yeah. That'd be great. Thanks."

She sighed in relief that he didn't sound angry or scared or even resigned. But her relief was short lived because as she turned, she saw him struggling slightly to get up and holding his middle as he did. He looked drained, exhausted.

"You can go lie down in your bed and I'll bring you the ice if you want."

Bellamy nodded gratefully and headed for his bedroom leaving her alone in the kitchen as all the emotions from the last minutes finally caught up with her.

She breathed several times, calming herself. It was over. There was no reason for her to get worked up over something that had already happened.

Clarke made a mental list of the things she would do. She'd take the ice to Bellamy, call Wells and set a few things straight, make dinner for her and Bellamy, check with the rest of the guys and set and hour for tomorrow, call Octavia and _finally_ go to bed. This day didn't seem to end, it seemed to go on for forever.

The list helped her concentrate and actually get things done.

She went to her freezer and found herself out of ice. Instead there was a little post-it inside that read _'Sorry. We needed the ice for the drinks :)'_ in what was undoubtedly Jasper's letter. She groaned in frustration. Really?

She settled for a bag of peas and wrapped it in a fluffy towel.

Bellamy was almost asleep when she entered his room. She sat carefully by his side and pressed the frozen peas to his cheek.

He stirred and opened his eyes, his hand covered hers and she would've taken comfort in the motion if she didn't know what his intention was. She removed her hand and let him hold the icy peas to his face.

"Thanks."

She managed a smile. "No problem."

Clarke left him alone and headed for her room. She dialed Wells. He didn't pick up. Of course he didn't.

She dialed Jasper next. He picked up on the first ring. She resisted rolling her eyes. "Hey, Clarke!"

"Hey. I just got home–"

"Cool. Can we drop by?"

"No. I have," she hesitated, she didn't think Bellamy would appreciate it if she told his name to other people but she wasn't calling him her slave either, "someone here–"

"Someone? Who, Clarke? Is it– What was his name? No, no. I bet it's that girl from the other night. It's her, isn't it?"

She frowned. "No, it isn't. And the way you put it makes it look like I sleep around with someone different every night."

Jasper laughed. "Of course you don't. If you did then you'd be in love with someone different every night. And I know you aren't, so..."

"Ahah, very funny," she deadpanned.

"Thank you. I try to be."

"I know you do. I just found your note in my freezer."

"Note? Oh. _That_ note. Yeah, sorry about that, but we weren't sure you would've let us use the rest of the ice if you knew there wasn't more."

"I wouldn't have."

"Then we made the right decision." And he actually sounded proud of himself. "But stop changing the subject, Clarke. Who do you have there?"

She was silent for a beat and then, " _Someone_ , Jasper."

"Someone? The guy Dax the asshole left with you?"

"Yeah."

"Really? How's that going?"

She wasn't sure what the simplest way to answer that was. "It's going."

"Yeah." And she knew he understood.

"Anyway, we're supposed to set an hour and meet up tomorrow."

"Okay, maybe 10am?"

"Sure. You let Maya, Monty, Miller, Raven and Wick know, okay? I'll call Octavia and Lincoln."

"Okay. Take care, Clarke."

She laughed. "You too."

After hanging up, Clarke called Octavia. She told her the time of the meeting and they agreed it would be better to hold it at Lincoln's. Then she told her what had happened with Wells, feeling guilty every time she referred to Bellamy as 'the boy' but she couldn't, wouldn't break his trust. Octavia asked her how Wells had known she was home and that's when Clarke started suspecting her mom might've been involved, even if just a little.

They said their goodbyes after a while and Clarke prepared toast for dinner. It wasn't much and it wasn't ideal but it wasn't as if she could cook all that well and besides, she wasn't feeling like eating much and Clarke suspected Bellamy wasn't either.

She took the food to his room but when she saw him fast asleep, looking so peaceful, even with the peas hanging from his hand on the bed, she didn't have the courage to wake him.

She took the peas from him and left the food on his bedside table.

Feeling silly for doing the same thing as Jasper, she wrote _'Eat if you're hungry. If you want anything else, the kitchen is yours'_ on a little post-it note and left it by the plate.

Then, she finally went to bed. She was asleep the moment her head hit her pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed it ^^
> 
> This is probably the part where the 'real' story and action start, so yay :D
> 
> I'd love to know what you thought, so please leave kudos and/or a comment with your opinion <3
> 
> xxx


	10. Chapter VII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey :)
> 
> The new chapter is finally here! Sorry for the long wait, I'll try not to take nearly as long this time ^^
> 
> As always, I want to thank [Dream.Weaver.Stories](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/2049100/Dream-Weaver-Stories) for editing this chapter <3
> 
> xxx

The first thing Clarke did, the next morning, after waking up and getting out of bed, was call her mom.

Wanting to avoid the same fight they'd been having over Bellamy, Clarke decided on telling Abby that Wells had come by, the two of them had had a fight and that he'd left after. It wasn't exactly a lie, just a distorted version of the truth. Then, she proceeded to ask her mom if she had any idea what Wells was doing in her apartment since she hadn't told him she was coming back.

Abby sighed. "Very subtle, Clarke." She could imagine her mom shaking her head, exasperated on the other side. "Wells called yesterday asking for you. I told him you were heading back to New York. He didn't mention he was going to pay you a visit, though."

Clarke frowned. Wells hadn't called her, he'd called her home number, her mom's home number. He never did that. Even when they weren't on speaking terms, he always called, or at least texted, _her_. Why would he call home this time? She was about to voice her question but something in her gut told her not to.

"I'd say that's weird, but you know Wells. Weird should be his middle name."

They talked for a few more minutes before they hung up.

Clarke pondered over what she should do. She decided on calling Wells but just like the night before, he didn't answer. Whatever, she'd try again later.

She checked on Bellamy but he was still sleeping. The plate she'd left on his bedside table was empty.

After getting dressed, Clarke made breakfast and left for Octavia's.

Octavia and Lincoln's place was only ten minutes away so she decided to walk.

When she finally made it, everyone else was already there. After hugging and greeting, the gang settled on the couches and floor in the living room.

"Sorry. I know I'm late but I had to take care of a few things," Clarke apologized, exchanging a look with Octavia.

Raven was the first to ask, "What things? Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, everything's fine. Don't worry, guys, it's not important." Not compared to what they were about to discuss anyway. "I'll tell you about it later."

They all nodded and quietly agreed. The thing was, Clarke was never late for anything, which was why her friends were always especially worried when she was. For them not to question her further and let the subject drop this easily… Clarke knew Lincoln wasn't exaggerating when he said it was big.

Monty and Jasper shared a look and at Monty's nod, Jasper took a deep breath and started speaking.

"Okay. Monty's going to give you the profile of our guy."

And as if on cue, Monty started handing them each several sheets of paper. _Justin Smith, 37, no close relatives alive, no criminal record._ Then there was an address and two pictures. The first one was of a man, a brunette with short hair and brown eyes, smiling. The second showed a mansion that resembled some kind of castle. The rest of the papers were blueprints of the garden and what Clarke guessed was the rest of Justin's house.

"So, the auction is gonna be like a special event. As you can see in the picture on the first page, this guy's mansion looks like a castle. I guess he has some sort of fantasy or whatever because the auction will be themed."

"You mean like a party?" Maya interrupted.

"Kind of. The guests are supposed to dress up like royalty. From what our contact told us, the guy's going to stage some shit, he'll be sitting on a throne and there'll be a fucking ball before the actual auction starts. The slaves will be held in the underground levels as if they were prisoners or criminals or whatever and they'll be brought up, one by one, for the auction. The place will be heavily guarded and the guests… the guests are all sick fuckers that don't deserve the air they breathe."

"That's fucked up," Wick muttered.

"Yeah, no shit," Octavia murmured.

Clarke ignored the sick feeling in her stomach and powered through. "What do we know about the slaves? How many are there? Ages? Gender? How they're being treated? In what conditions they're being kept? Anything?"

"Hmm..." Jasper flipped through some pages and then, "Here. As always, none of this information is accurate but apparently, there'll be about fifty, males and females, the oldest one being fifteen and the youngest one seven."

Clarke heard someone punching something and then the unmistakable sound of glass shattering against the wall.

"Fuck," she heard Miller swear.

"I know," Monty sighed softly.

Lincoln asked, "Any ideas for the escape plan?"

Jasper nodded. "Remember when I said Justin's house looked like a castle? Well, that's because the guy's house _is_ a castle." At everyone's puzzled looks, Jasper explained, "He bought the place sixteen years ago when it was in ruins and for sale. He had it restored and moved in five years later. And you know how, in the old days, castles had secret passages and all that cool stuff? As far as I know, the castle Justin bought any secret passages but it did have an underground passage, about two miles long, that connected the dungeons to the outside. The passage was supposedly used if there was a fire or an attack or if there was any kind of emergency and the people who lived there had to get out quickly and unnoticed. If you were to use it to get everyone out it would take you an hour at most to get to the car and that's already putting possible injuries and setbacks in consideration. The only problem is we're not sure the passage is still there–"

" _What?_ "

"–I mean, technically, when Justin restored the castle, he also restored the underground passage–"

" _Technically?_ "

"–so, theoretically, we can use that to escape and get the slaves out."

" _Theoretically?_ "

"Don't give us those looks, guys. This is the best we got. Seriously, Monty and I spent hours trying to come up with a different solution, but this is it. There will be dozens of guards and even more guests and none of those would be inclined to help you. There are way too many variables and with fifty children to get out this is the fastest, easiest, most reliable way."

"Jasper, we can't go in not knowing if there's a way to get out. That's– That's crazy!" Octavia protested.

"I know, I know, okay? But, come on, who in their perfect mind would restore a castle and not the freaking underground passage? It's an _underground passage_ , for fuck's sake."

"Oh my god! Are you serious? This is not a joke!" Raven shouted.

"I'm _not_ joking! We've been studying this guy and digging into his past. I kind of know what I'm talking about. He _would_ want the passage, even if he had no plans to use it, he would want it there."

Lincoln interrupted the fight that would only escalate from then on. "How long do we have?"

"The auction's in ten days."

Monty, who'd been quiet until now, spoke up, "Listen, guys, we would never put everything at risk like this if we weren't sure we were right."

"You can't be sure, Monty," Maya insisted quietly.

"The passage is there!" Monty declared none too calmly.

Clarke looked at Lincoln, a question in her eyes. He gave a tiny nod.

"Okay, guys, listen. We have ten days. We'll plan everything the same way we do every time. If we can come up with a different plan until the auction, great, if not, we should stick with the one Jasper and Monty have. It's risky, sure, but there hasn't been a single plan that any of us came up with that wasn't. Besides, I think we can all agree that it's worth the risk. We can't let fifty kids go home with the kind of people that would be okay attending an event like this, not if there's something we can do to prevent it."

No one said anything but after a while they all nodded their agreement.

Raven looked at Jasper and apologized. "I'm sorry I shouted. Clarke's right, it's worth it. And we trust you. You guys wouldn't want to take such a big risk if you weren't as sure as you can be that it would work."

Lincoln didn't waste any time to start barking orders. "Alright. Now that that's settled, Monty and Raven, as usual, you stay on the outside and take care of security. See if you can hack the security system. Cameras, codes, all that stuff, we need access to all of it. Wick, you stay with them and see what you'll need to take care of from the inside, once we're there. Jasper, get us the numbers. Number of people inside the building, outside, how many guards, how many guests, how many employees, you know the drill. Miller, get those blueprints and study them. We need a route, a more detailed plan, emergency exits and an escape vehicle. Maya, you're in charge of the clothes and costumes we're going to wear."

Once again, everyone nodded and agreed. No one protested or asked questions, they'd done this numerous times in the past years, they were more than familiar with the way things went before the auctions.

Clarke didn't stay for much longer after that. They all had things they needed to get done and she had Bellamy waiting for her.

***

A week went by and, all in all, she couldn't consider it a bad week, not exactly, but she couldn't say it had been a good one either.

Clarke hadn't heard from Wells yet. He wasn't picking up his phone and no one she'd asked had seen him. She was starting to get worried. She would've asked Monty or Raven if they could find him but she didn't want them to worry about that when they already had so much on their plates.

She and the guys hadn't hung out much. Everyone had been too busy, too preoccupied preparing for the auction for them to meet up. They only had three more days until the auction and, until now, no one had come up with a better plan. Tomorrow they would get together again to sort out the details and to go over the plan one last time.

Clarke's main excuse to return to New York had been the gallery but she hadn't actually set foot inside since she'd come back. At least the people she'd left in charge of it hadn't called her and she knew that was a good sign, that they never bothered her unless there was a problem.

Bellamy was getting better. The bruises were fading, he was eating more and putting on weight. Clarke also noticed that he was getting used to her presence; to her. He didn't flinch every time she came close, only tensed slightly. It was progress.

Clarke had yet to tell him about what she and the gang did. She knew he suspected something and she was sure it wouldn't take long for him to ask.

Clarke couldn't ignore the fact that he was getting antsy. She'd had her mind full the last few days and Bellamy… Bellamy didn't have anything to do. She could tell doing nothing all day was getting on his nerves.

It was for that reason exactly that Clarke decided they should go out and buy him some clothes. It would serve to distract him, of course, but it wasn't as if he didn't need them either. He'd been using Marcus' clothes but he should have clothes of his own.

Bellamy hadn't opposed to the idea when she'd made the suggestion earlier and that was how they found themselves walking down the street two blocks away, heading for the mall.

When they'd left their apartment, Clarke had expected Bellamy to keep his head down and his eyes trained on the floor. When they got to the sidewalk and started walking, Bellamy had surprised her by doing the exact opposite. His eyes jumped from person to person, assessing everyone and blatantly glaring at anyone who looked back. However, at the smallest chance someone passing by might brush against Bellamy, he would inch closer to her. It was weird. Clarke couldn't figure out if he was trying to comfort himself or to 'protect' her from whoever he deemed as a possible threat.

When they finally got there, Clarke led Bellamy to the clothes shop and started picking some items for him since it was obvious he wasn't going to choose anything himself. In the end, she ended up with a bunch t-shirts and sweatshirts, two pairs of shorts, three pairs of jeans, a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie in her arms and directed Bellamy to the nearest fitting room. She stayed outside, 'guarding' the door, sure he was more comfortable and felt safer with her there.

An hour later, they were looking through the men's underwear section and, this time, Clarke put her foot down and absolutely refused to decide for him, demanding Bellamy chose what he wanted so that they could go home. It only took about five minutes for Bellamy to pick a pair of black boxer-briefs. Clarke added a couple more to the basket before paying.

After, Clarke and Bellamy made one last quick stop to buy him two pairs of sneakers and then they were heading home.

The walk home had been going pretty much like their walk to the mall.

One second they were walking down the street and the next Bellamy was gripping her arm in a tight grip and practically dragging her across the street.

The cars driving by all screeched to a stop and somehow they managed to cross the road without being run over. 

The next moment, Bellamy was pulling her into an alley and slamming her against the wall. The breath in her lungs rattled out of her.

It reminded her of the first day, at her apartment, but even though the motion and their positions were the same, this was, in a certain way, entirely different. Then, there'd been mostly anger and determination behind his push, but now… now there was fear and desperation.

One of his hands was still clamped around her arm and the other was now grabbing her hand and holding it to his chest. After a moment of hesitation, he dropped his head to her shoulder and she could feel his harsh breaths on her skin.

Clarke wanted to ask him what was going on but before she the words could leave her mouth, she heard the ones he kept mumbling like a mantra, like they were the only thing keeping him from falling apart.

At first it was just _'no, no, no, no'_ and she heard his true terror in them, though what he was scared of she wasn't sure. But then, after a breath, it was _'it's okay, it's okay, she's gone, it's okay, we're safe, it's okay'_.

Tears prickled in her eyes at his words even though she didn't know what had caused this.

Her voice joined his, "It's okay. Don't worry. You're safe. We're safe. It's okay."

She lifted her free hand and started rubbing soothing circles on his back.

The motion and her voice seemed to calm him and Bellamy was just starting to relax when a chilling voice sounded in the alley.

"Clarke?"

Every muscle in Bellamy's body went taut and Clarke could feel a shudder running through him.

Curiosity joined the feeling of concern and Clarke peeked over his shoulder to see who it was.

She was taken aback when she saw the face to which the voice belonged to. "Dr. Tsing?"

Clarke felt her face heat up at the position she and Bellamy were in and the conclusions the doctor would probably jump to. She gently detangled herself from him, not letting go of their joined hands, and immediately felt the loss of his heat.

Surprise washed over her upon seeing the woman's reaction when she saw Bellamy's face. Tsing's eyes had widened and her mouth opened and closed a few times. It was more than strange and enough to put Clarke on edge. The doctor rarely displayed her emotions and she certainly never did so like this. Most of the time, it was as if she wore a cold mask, concealing everything and betraying nothing. No one was ever able to tell what the woman was thinking or what her reactions were.

Clarke had already been suspicious and this only served to encourage the feeling that there was something going on, something she wasn't in on, something she should know but didn't. And while Clarke didn't know what that something was, she knew it couldn't possibly be anything good and she was sure she wasn't going to like it when she found out.

"What's going on? What are you doing here?" Clarke asked, since the woman had yet to respond to her.

Her words seemed to break whatever spell Tsing had been under and the doctor's demeanor changed, became more guarded. "Clarke! It is you. I wasn't sure. I thought I saw you walking and just when I was about to approach you, that boy practically dragged you here. I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"I'm fine," Clarke answered curtly. She didn't know why but the other woman's presence seemed almost like a threat. There were thoughts and possibilities forming in her head and they were all so horrifying, Clarke could only hope they weren't true.

"Good. That's good."

The silence stretched well past the point of being uncomfortable.

"Dr. Tsing, it was really nice to see you, but we were going home. I'm still planning on passing by the gallery so we better resume walking, because I don't want to be late."

"Of course, of course. I just have one question before you go, if you don't mind?"

Clarke considered how inappropriate it would be if she said that yes, she did mind and simply left. "Not at all."

"Is that the new slave I heard you acquired?"

Bellamy tightened his hold on her hand. "Why do you ask?"

"No reason other than mere curiosity," Tsing's laugh sounded fake even to her ears. "But I guess your question is an answer itself, isn't it?" Clarke guessed the doctor wasn't expecting a reply. "I heard he was offered to you at your birthday as a surprise gift. By the way, I apologize for not making it but I was needed at the hospital."

"It's fine. The party was cut short, so you didn't really miss anything. And I'm sorry if this sounds rude, but we really have to go-"

"Since you didn't buy him and you weren't expecting to receive him, I'm assuming you have no interest in keeping him. So, I was wondering if you were considering passing him onto someone who might put him to better use. And if that was the case, then I would like to inform you that I'd be more than glad to buy him and save you the trouble of finding someone else who would take him."

Clarke was shocked into silence. The doctor must've taken her silence for agreement because the next thing Clarke knew, Tsing was saying, "I'm sure I have all the papers necessary in my car, if you would follow me, it's parked just-"

"No."

"No? What do you-"

"No. I mean no. I'm sorry but you misunderstood me. I'm not selling Be- this boy. Not to you and not to anyone. He's not for sale." Clarke didn't think she could be any more specific but the shock was fading and giving room to anger. "You can pass on the message to anyone else you think might be interested. You're right. I didn't ask to be given this boy, but I'm happy that I was. And yes, it was a surprise, but a very pleasant one. And, no offense, but I don't think you have any right to assume I use or don't use the boy. It's my decision to do as I want because he is mine."

"Oh. Of course. Apparently I misjudged the situation completely."

"Yes, apparently, you did."

"Well, I'm sorry. I hope this doesn't change anything, Clarke. Abby is a dear friend of mine and I wouldn't want my friendship with someone I have to work with every day to become stranded because of something like this. It would be ridiculous for a _slave_ to cause such trouble, don't you agree? And I apologize, once more, if I offended you in any way. It was not my intention."

No. Her intention had been to take Bellamy with her. The thought sent a shiver down her spine. Clarke couldn't bring herself to give a verbal response and settled for nodding.

"One last thing, Clarke, and forgive me if I'm intruding or overstepping but the way that slave grabbed you? It's unthinkable for a slave to touch a young lady, an owner like that. It is highly improper and such behavior should be corrected with a harsh punishment." The doctor pronounced the last words with a cold glint in her eyes and looking directly at Bellamy.

Instinctively, Clarke tightened her grip on his hand and Bellamy squeezed hers back, almost like she was the one keeping him grounded.

Clarke was about to snap at the doctor but Bellamy beat her to it. "Well, I think it is highly improper for a person to tell another how to handle their slave the way you just did."

Clarke knew the right thing, the safest thing to do was reprimand Bellamy for speaking in such a way. After all, she did have an image she had to uphold. But this was the most 'normal' she'd seen him act since she met him. Besides, Clarke was starting to realize that the real Bellamy, the one that didn't have to be afraid of speaking his mind, the one that didn't have to fear the consequences of his actions, the person underneath the walls he put up and the armor he used was someone a lot more fun than she'd initially thought. Clarke was slowly coming to the conclusion that behind the person Bellamy had been forced to become for others, to protect himself, was someone she would very much like to meet, someone she just knew she'd get along with better than she'd ever hoped.

"I would correct him, except it's like he read my mind. And I couldn't have said it better myself."

At her words, Tsing's face blanched even further and for the second time ever, the woman was rendered speechless.

"Now, as I've been trying to say for the past minutes, I can't waste any more time than I already have, so I'll see you at another time, if you don't mind, Dr. Tsing."

Without waiting for a response from the doctor, Clarke pulled on Bellamy's hand and they exited the alley, continuing on their way to the apartment.

They got there a few minutes later and Bellamy went to his room to change and put the rest of the clothes in the drawers, leaving Clarke to her musings.

The rest of their walk had been different. Which of course was to be expected after what happened in the alley, but still. Neither one of them had said anything but there was a sort of mutual understanding between them that hadn't been there before.

***

It was the middle of the night and Clarke woke with a start. The moment she opened her eyes, she knew something wasn't right. She couldn't explain the feeling but it was there and she never ignored her gut instincts.

Getting up, Clarke opened her door and padded softly into the hallway, making sure to keep her footsteps light as to not alert anyone of her presence. She got to the opening that led to the kitchen and living room and blaring warnings immediately went off in her head. She registered several things at once. The lamp by the side of the couch was on. One of the stools by the kitchen island was on the ground. Her cupboards' were open. And so was the window.

Her heart was beating wildly in her chest but Clarke forced herself to stay calm. She turned slightly to her left, not taking her eyes off the room in front of her. Her hand connected with one of the paintings she had hung throughout the whole apartment. She lifted the frame from the wall and slid her hand underneath, instantly closing her hand around the hilt of the blade she kept hidden there.

Feeling much better already, Clarke ventured into the living room. Besides the light being on, there was nothing out of place. She moved onto the kitchen and again, came to the same conclusion. The only signs that there had been someone else there were the ones she'd already cataloged.

Whoever had been there was probably already gone but they had obviously wanted Clarke to know they'd been in her apartment.

Sighing and not letting go of the knife, she put everything back the way it was before.

She was locking the window when something forced her gaze down. On the other side of the street, obscured by the shadows was a figure. It could've been anyone and it probably had nothing to do with her, but Clarke had the distinct sense that it was the person who had broken in. Before she could react, the person was gone.

Clarke took a deep calming breath, locked the window and pulled the curtains. It was fine. She'd take care of this.

On the way to her bedroom, she returned the knife back to its hiding place.

She had her hand on her door's knob and was about to enter and go back to bed but decided to turn around at the last second.

Clarke knew everything was okay. They were safe. Still, she felt a pull towards Bellamy's bedroom. It was as if she needed to see him just to make sure he was there, sleeping and unperturbed.

She opened the door and peeked inside. What she saw, surprised her. Bellamy's covers were kicked back and half of them were on the floor. He was lying on his back with his arms under his head. As soon as he heard his door open, his head popped up and his eyes met hers. Clarke could tell he hadn't been sleeping, his eyes were too alert for that.

"Do you need something?" he asked and she could tell he hadn't meant for it to come out as defensive as it did.

"No. No, I don't need anything. Sorry to bother you. I was just checking in."

Clarke was already turning around when his voice stopped her.

"Why? It's not like you usually come here in the middle of the night." _I'd know if you did._ He didn't have to say it for her to understand.

"No, you're right, I don't."

One of his eyebrows rose and she could've laughed. "I don't know why I did it. I just… I just needed to make sure you were fine. It doesn't make any sense."

Bellamy shrugged his shoulders noncommittedly. "I think it kind of does, in a way."

Clarke nodded. "What are you doing awake at this hour anyway? Couldn't sleep?"

He looked to the side when he answered. "Something like that."

Clarke winced in sympathy. She knew he had nightmares, it was no surprise after everything he'd been through. She just wished they could go away so that he could get a good night of sleep for once.

"Yeah."

"What about you? I thought you had to get up early tomorrow to meet your friends about something important."

Bellamy's eyes were once again on her, though this time they were studying her, gauging her reaction. And she suspected, this time, it wasn't out of fear.

Clarke tried to act nonchalant, like it wasn't a big deal, but she had a feeling he could see through it. "Yeah, we agreed on meeting tomorrow morning. In just a few hours, really. I don't think I'm going to manage to fall asleep again, though."

"Why?"

Clarke knew she should tell him about the break in, but she couldn't. Not yet, at least. She'd take care of it. Bellamy shouldn't have to be worried about his safety, not when he was with her. "There's just too much on my mind right now."

Bellamy was silent for a beat and then, surprisingly, he asked quietly, "Want to talk about it?"

Even more surprising than his question was Clarke's automatic answer being yes. She wanted to talk about it, about all of it. About Wells, about tomorrow, about the plan that could go so wrong, about all her fears and doubts, about everything. A part of her knew without a doubt that Bellamy would understand. He would listen to her and he would care. He would want to be a part of it. And she would let him. She would let him be a part of everything, she would let him be one of them. Because Bellamy was exactly the kind of person they needed and wanted by their side.

But she couldn't tell him. Clarke would, in a few days. She'd tell him all of it and let him decide. But she had to talk to the others first and that'd have to wait until after the mission.

So, she said yes, but she only talked about Wells being somewhat missing. Clarke kept the conversation light and they only talked about safe-topics.

Somehow, she ended up sitting by his side on the bed. That's how they spent the rest of the night, side by side, like they were always meant to be. Clarke showed Bellamy a side of her he had never seen, that very few people had. She told him about her dad and how even after all this time, she still missed him. Bellamy didn't say he was sorry, his eyes hardened and his hands clenched into fists, before he relaxed and clasped his hand in hers, squeezing, telling he knew how she felt, that he understood. And she knew he did. She knew that he hated the council, the system and the unfair world they lived in as much as she did. It was the only confirmation Clarke needed to know that Bellamy would join them, that together, one day, they'd change things for the better. For now though, she enjoyed his company and relished in his soothing presence.

When the first rays of dawn filtered through the window, they were both asleep, their hands still clamped tightly together and Clarke's head resting on Bellamy's shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it *-*
> 
> You know how much I love to hear from you guys, so please leave kudos and/or a comment with your opinion <3
> 
> xxx


	11. Chapter VIII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey :)
> 
> Here's the new chapter! It obviously took me way longer to finish it than I had anticipated... I struggled with a few parts and had to rewrite several paragraphs that never seemed right lol
> 
> I want to thank [Dream.Weaver.Stories](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/2049100/Dream-Weaver-Stories) for the help and for editing this chapter <3
> 
> xxx

The three days they had to prepare went by in a rush. The whole group was on edge. Tonight was the auction and, in theory, they were ready. The only problem was that their plan wasn't one hundred percent foolproof. And it was true that they'd managed to pull off far riskier missions, but this was different; it felt different.

Clarke was in her room, getting ready. She was trying to figure out how she was supposed to get herself inside the dress Maya had picked for her to wear. It was amazing, there was no denying that. It was a light blue piece, the gown was long and decorated with a beautiful lace pattern and the corset was an even lighter blue. Jasper had been right, it really looked like something taken out of a fairy tale. 

Getting in the dress was actually a lot easier than Clarke had thought it would be and, after a bit of struggling, Clarke managed to do it. She took one look in the mirror and stared. With the make-up she'd applied previously and her hair already done, Clarke looked nothing like herself.

Her phone chimed with an incoming text, breaking Clarke out of her daze. It was from Octavia and it read _'We're good to go. We'll pick you up in ten'_.

Clarke took a deep breath and steeled herself. This was it.

//

Bellamy honestly didn't know what to think. Clarke had been locked in her room for the past four hours and had not come out once. It wasn't as if this was an unusual occurrence though. She'd been doing it almost every day since they'd arrived from Abby's. Stranger than that was the fact that even though Bellamy had no idea what Clarke was doing behind her bedroom door, he wasn't scared. Worried, yes. Curious, absolutely. But not once did he feel threatened or afraid. 

Things between them had kind of settled. Bellamy thought he understood Clarke, on some level. It confused him. He knew he hadn't spent almost any time with her and not nearly enough to say he knew her. And yet, he felt like he understood Clarke. It was stupid, it didn't make an ounce of sense. It went against every self-preservation instinct he had. Still, Bellamy couldn't ignore the feeling of a connection that linked the two of them in a way he couldn't figure out.

Bellamy had never once imagined himself sharing the things he'd been sharing with Clarke with another person, much less with one of his owners. And despite this fact, he found himself spilling out his secrets and fears, practically baring his soul to her, every night, like the moron he was. They had sort of made a habit out of Clarke joining him in the middle of the night. And, ignoring every alarm bell going off in his mind, Bellamy felt safe in her presence, drew comfort from her company. It was reckless, risky, borderline dangerous behavior. With every passing day, with each moment he spent with Clarke, Bellamy found himself falling farther into the sense of safety, found himself feeling more and more comfortable around her. He knew he was beginning to trust her and even though everything in him yelled for him to hit the brakes, turn the wheel and change course, he couldn't make himself do it. He didn't want to change direction. He was tired of going on alone, of having no one to rely on. Bellamy _needed_ this, was starting to need _her_. Now he just had to accept it and stop being so terrified of the notion. If this was it, if this trusting Clarke was his downfall, Bellamy didn't think it was such a bad way to go.

The door to Clarke's door opened, making Bellamy turn in his seat on the couch. The tv was still on, though he'd long since lost interest in whatever program that was airing.

Bellamy felt his mouth drop open in shock but what one might confuse with amazement. Clarke stood at the end of the hall, looking at him and trying to gauge his reaction. She wore a blue dress that hugged her curves and made her eyes stand out even more. She looked stunning, even more so than usual, like a princess.

Clarke cleared her throat, making his eyes snap up to meet hers and the blush that had risen on her cheeks didn't escape Bellamy's notice. "I have to go. I'm going to meet with a few friends. I probably won't be back until morning, so–"

"Morning?"

"Yes?" Her yes came out more as a question than an affirmation and Bellamy's brows furrowed. Clarke quickly recovered and repeated with much more certainty, "Yes. We'll be out at least until morning."

"Where are you going?" The words were out of his mouth before his brain could catch up. A couple of days earlier, he would already be shrinking back and apologizing, praying that whatever punishment was coming his way wasn't that bad. But things were different now, the rules he'd come to know didn't apply, everything had changed.

Clarke looked down as she guiltily replied, "I can't tell you."

Of course she couldn't. Bellamy nodded, not sure what to say to that.

"It's not what you think, whatever that is. I promise I will explain all of it to you, just not now."

"Okay."

Clarke smiled at him, grateful that he accepted her promise even though he didn't understand it.

"I gotta go. Just one thing before I do: don't open the door to anyone." Clarke hesitated for a second, seemingly pondering over something before continuing, "There's a gun hidden under the tv table. It's loaded and silenced, so don't hesitate on using it if you think it's necessary. In fact, maybe you should keep it with you while I'm gone, just in case."

Bellamy was still standing dumbfounded at Clarke when she opened their apartment's door and slipped out with a quiet, "I'll see you later."

Several questions flashed through his mind in quick succession. Why the hell did she think he could need a gun? Who did she fear he might have to defend himself from? When had she started thinking he was worth protecting? And one last one, the only question Bellamy had an answer for, an answer Clarke herself had just unknowingly given him. Did she really care about him?

//

Clarke exited the building exactly at the same time a limo pulled over.

The driver's door opened and Jasper got out, rounded the car and opened the rear door for her, bending a little at the waist and making an exaggerated motion for her to get inside.

"Miss Griffin," he said, managing to sound respectful while smirking to himself.

Clarke held back a smile of her own. "Thank you."

She got inside the car and immediately turned to Lincoln and Wick, who were both dressed in two suits Maya had chosen, "Raven and Monty?"

Lincoln answered, "They're already in the van, forty minutes away from the property."

"Good. Octavia, Miller and Maya?"

This time Wick supplied with, "Already inside, probably in the kitchen or serving drinks by now."

Clarke released a breath. "Okay. That's good."

"Yep. Everything's good so far. It's all going according to the plan," Wick said, obviously amused.

The tinted window separating the passengers' seats from the driver slid open and Jasper ground out, "Things will go according the plan. Stop stressing about that and worry about doing your part. Everything will be fine."

"It'll be fine, Jasper, we know. It's just–"

"No, don't give me that. You can't go on a mission if you don't trust the plan. It'll only go wrong if you're not a hundred percent sure it'll go right."

Clarke thought it over for a breath before saying with a resolution she felt deep in her heart, "It'll go right." They'd gone over the plan a million times and they all trusted each other to have everyone's backs. There was nothing that could go wrong as long as they were in it together.

Jasper smiled at her from the rearview mirror. "Now that's more like it."

When they were only fifteen minutes away from the property, Jasper pulled over and handed them each an imperceptible earpiece, so that they could all maintain contact. They tested that it worked and Jasper kept on driving.

In no time, Jasper was slowing down and approaching an enormous gate. "Alright, guys. It's show time."

There was a surveillance camera installed and, without Jasper having to do anything, the gate opened.

The property was exactly like Monty and Jasper had described it. There was only one entrance, the one they'd just used. The driveway was outstanding and there were trees on both sides of the road that Clarke knew continued until the walls that surrounded the place. Around the back there was supposedly a pool and a pool house. And the house itself was magnificent but Clarke couldn't really appreciate its full beauty knowing the cruelty that hid behind its walls. The whole place looked like a scene from one of the movies Clarke and the guys sometimes watched.

Not two minutes later the car was stopping and a man was opening their door. Jasper threw them a wink over his shoulder and the three of them got out, thanking the man.

They climbed the steps but, at the door, were stopped by another man who held what looked like a tablet. "Good evening. Names, please?"

Monty's voice came through the earpiece. "We already took care of it. Just use the code names, obviously."

Clarke smiled. "Good evening. We were really excited when we got the invitations. Thank you for having us." The man said nothing, just lifted an unamused inquiring brow at her. Clarke cleared her throat. "Eliza Taylor. These are Richard Whittle and Steve Talley."

The man frowned at the device. "Your names aren't on the list."

Wick deadpanned, "I'm pretty sure they are since, you know, we received the invitations."

Clarke shot him a glare before turning to the man and asking sweetly, "Would you mind checking again, please?"

The man heaved a sigh, clearly wondering what he did to deserve this, and tapped the tablet a few times.

Face scrunching in confusion, the man glanced at them and then at the device in his hands again. He shook his head as if to clear it and finally stepped back so that his form wasn't blocking the door any longer. "Turns out your names _were_ on the list. Don't know how I missed them. Anyway, go in. Have fun."

Clarke slipped past him with a quiet, "Thank you," Lincoln and Wick following behind, with Wick muttering a not so subtle "Told ya" over his shoulder.

Not two seconds after they were inside, Monty spoke again. "Already took your names off the list. It'll be as if you were never here." Clarke hid her smile and kept walking.

The door led to a short corridor of several closed doors and every single one of which the group knew where it led to. At least they had gotten the right plant. Clarke remembered the one time they had gotten the wrong blueprints vividly well and didn't need a repeat experience. She didn't think they were prepared to deal with something like that this time. They had been lucky that other time, the mission hadn't gone completely wrong and they had even managed to safely extract the slaves. But the plan hadn't been nearly as risky and tensions hadn't run nearly as high. 

The corridor opened to an enormous room, a ball room, Clarke noticed after taking a second glance. The inside was just as unbelievable as the outside. The place was heavily decorated, with drapery and carpets adorning the walls and floors, giving the room an almost tranquil atmosphere. But, Clarke suspected that, even without them, the place would look majestic. The only thing that looked slightly out of place was the not so small stage, no doubt put there for the auction.

Clarke didn't waste any more time appreciating the tapestries though. She immediately started looking around, trying to blend in with the other guests while, at the same time, cautiously assessing the room and the people, getting a grip on her surroundings. There was a guard at each door, except at the double doors that led to the kitchen and to the balconies, where there were two. She swept her eyes over the room one more time before finding the door she was searching for. It was on the other side of the room and, despite looking as inconspicuous as the others and not having anyone guarding it, Clarke knew where it led. It led to a small room, without windows or any other visible outs; once inside they were supposed to find some sort of button on the wall to the left of the door that Wick would undoubtedly recognize and after pressing it they had to insert a numeric code, six numbers Raven had said, that Wick would crack. According to the two of them, that was the easy part.

Movement near the stage drew her attention towards it and Clarke turned, intrigued, as did everyone else, to watch a guy about her age, maybe a year or two older, get on it. Studying the faces of the other guests, Clarke found different degrees of recognition on almost everyone's eyes. She chased the suspicion away and forced her gaze to the stage once more and took a better look at the guy. He was tall and pale, had blue eyes and a styled gelled brown hair. He was attractive, the kind of person who stood out and turned heads. Still, her mind wandered towards a tanned face dotted with freckles and warm brown eyes of its own volition.

"Good evening, ladies and gentleman! As all of you know, or should know, given that it was written in the official invitations I sent myself, my name is John Murphy. And for those of you who are confused and wondering why I'm standing here telling you this," the guy paused for effect and Clarke could swear his eyes locked with hers while he explained. "I'm the host of this party." Again, the guy stopped for a second, letting the audience digest the information he was offering. Clarke's mind raced. That wasn't right. The host's name was Justin Smith and the man was 37, not a twenty something. The guy's voice cut through her thoughts. "I want to welcome you all and wish everyone a wonderful night. I know I invited most of you and I hope to meet all those who found another way to get an invitation, by the end of the night. The auction will only start in two hours, so you all have more than enough time to eat, drink and dance. I know you must be curious to see the slaves and I assure you, you will not be disappointed. There's a few of each type so I'm absolutely sure you'll find at least one that meets your tastes. If you don't see anything you like, don't despair. I, of course, saved my favorites, the ones I consider best, for the end. Until then, enjoy the ball and enjoy yourselves!"

Music started playing the instant the guy was finished speaking and he quickly got off the stage and swiftly disappeared through a door behind it. And despite the soft lulling of the music that invited people to relax, Clarke couldn't get the guy's words out of her head _'I know I invited most of you'_. What had he meant by _most of you_?

Clarke looked across the room and subtly exchanged a look with Lincoln. He shook his head dismissively, but Clarke noticed his stiff shoulders and clenched jaw. He suspected something was up as well.

She breathed in and out and forced the tension to leave her body. She couldn't afford to attract unnecessary attention to herself. It was fine. It probably meant nothing and they were just being paranoid. Yeah. That was probably it.

Even so, she was sure, she _knew_ the guy, John Murphy, whatever, gazed directly at her several times during his speech. And it sure as hell wasn't while he was talking about the range of slaves he had for the auction. It could've been just a coincidence. Clarke was praying it had been just that. Except, she didn't believe in coincidences.

"Monty? Raven? What the fuck is going on?" she muttered quietly between clenched teeth, making sure no one heard her.

"We don't know."

"Then figure it out."

"Don't worry. We're on it."

Clarke didn't gnaw on her lip. That didn't mean she didn't want to because she absolutely did. But she exuded the perfect image of calm and collected.

She saw Lincoln by the drinks' table and looked around trying to locate Wick. She thought she saw a mop of blond hair heading for the stage but couldn't be sure it was him.

"Okay, guys, listen up. This Murphy guy is legit, he's the host of the auction. Justin Smith is the owner of the house and he's the one who usually throws these parties but he never once had an auction."

"So that means–"

"It's all a rouse, possibly a trap," Monty concluded.

"It doesn't matter. Nothing has changed. We stick to the plan."

"Clarke," Raven started but Octavia interrupted.

"No, Raven. She's right. The only thing that's changed is the person in control, everything else is the exact same we predicted."

"Octavia, you heard the guy's speech, they might be expecting you," Raven cautioned.

"Yes, they might. But I believe we can all agree that it's a risk worth taking," Lincoln backed his girlfriend up.

"Okay, so we're all on the same page?"

There was a collective answer, "No backing down."

A few minutes later, a hand tapped Clarke's shoulder, at the same time a voice said, from behind her, "Eliza? Would you care for a dance?"

Clarke was ready to spin around and politely refuse, claiming she was just waiting for her boyfriend to return from the bathroom, but the second she turned the words died on her throat.

John Murphy was standing there and taking her silence for agreement took her hand in his and led her to the center of the room, proceeding to put her other hand, which was still hanging limply at her side, on his shoulder.

The music changed as if whoever was playing it knew this was the appropriate moment to put something slow, to which the guests could dance to, playing.

No less stunned but wanting to play it cool, Clarke feigned confusion. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name. John, was it?"

His hand burned where it rested on the small of her back and Clarke wished the tension away from her body. She almost wished he would pull her closer and not maintain such a respectable distance between them, so that she'd have a reason to push him and get him away from her without causing a scene.

He laughed and, with sharp eyes that told her he saw right through her bullshit, corrected, "Murphy. My girlfriend is the only person who calls me John."

That was something she could work with. Clarke lifted both eyebrows and mock-surprised, "Girlfriend? So you're not hitting on me? Don't get me wrong. Believe me, that's a relief. It saves me the trouble of having to turn you down, but I swear you could've fooled me."

Murphy smirked. "No, I couldn't have."

She was honestly getting tired of playing his game, whatever it was. "What do you want, Murphy?"

He hummed and pretended to think for a second. "Dropping pretenses, hmm? You're bold, not really reckless and not exactly fearless either. But those are all good qualities to have, I guess." Pausing but not getting any response from Clarke, Murphy plowed through. "I think you know damn well what I want. And if you don't… Well, you'll find out soon enough, _Clarke_."

With that and a squeeze to the hand he was holding (and Clarke didn't even want to begin to guess why he did that and what it might mean), Murphy let her go and walked away, getting lost in the sea of bodies that were now dancing to the beat in a matter of seconds.

Not a whole minute later Octavia was approaching her, in the same dresses the female employees were wearing, only her eyes betraying her worry. "Would you like a drink, Miss?"

Clarke smiled to reassure her, ignoring the shakiness she felt, "I'm alright, thank you."

Octavia insisted, "A glass of champagne, maybe?" And this time didn't wait for her answer before picking the only glass left on the tray she was carrying and handing it to her, proceeding to practically run off in the opposite direction she'd came from.

"What the hell am I supposed to do with this?" she muttered mostly to herself and started when Lincoln actually answered through the earpiece.

"Just put it on the drinks' table, Clarke."

His voice had an edge to it and Clarke sighed. "Fine."

Monty's voice came through not long after, while she was weaving between the guests, trying to make it to the damn table. "Ten minutes to go." His voice too was strained, like he was just barely containing himself and resisting a desperate urge to call the whole thing off and get them all to safety. He knew, though, it wasn't their own safety any of them was really worrying about.

Finally by the table, Clarke put the glass down with way more force than it was necessary, causing some of its contents to slip. She took a deep breath. She could do this. They could do this. It was fine. She just had to relax and get her head in the game.

Someone bumped into her and immediately apologized. "I'm so sorry. God, I'm such a mess. Seriously, a walking disaster."

A laugh escaped Clarke, "It's fine. Don't worry about it."

She faced the girl and only then did she notice the scar that marred her left cheek. Clarke could only hope whoever had done that to her had paid dearly for it.

"Your dress is beautiful," the girl pipped up, still smiling.

Clarke's eyes wandered down, taking notice of the amazing red dress the girl was wearing.

"Thanks. I really love yours."

The girl let out a laugh. "My boyfriend chose it. I can already see how smug he'll look when I tell him."

"I bet the amount of jealousy he'll feel when he notices all the guys and girls staring at you will wipe the smugness right out of his face."

There was a mischievous glint in her eyes when she offered Clarke her hand. "I'm Emory."

"Eliza," she answered automatically, shaking Emory's hand and ignoring the feeling of regret in the pit of her stomach for lying and not telling her her real name.

Emory nodded, "I'll see you around, Eliza."

"Planning to replace us, Clarke?" Raven asked, teasing.

Clarke gave a startled laugh even as she replied, "Never."

For some reason, Clarke's eyes didn't stray from Emory as the other girl made her way across the room.

"Get ready, people. Octavia's about to sound the fire alarm," Monty warned them.

Clarke paid no attention to his words and watched as Emory approached no one other than O, tapping her on the arm and effectively drawing her attention away from the fire alarm on the wall in front of her.

"Fuck," she cursed, her feet already carrying her in their direction.

When she got within hearing distance, the words she heard leaving Emory's mouth stopped her in her tracks.

"This alarm is deactivated, it doesn't work. If you want to create confusion, you'll have to set the one in the kitchen. But then, there's no way you wouldn't know that if you really were an employee here."

Octavia didn't take any time shooting back, "And there's no way you did if you really were a guest."

Emory's eyes narrowed. The girl's mouth opened to retort something that would probably not be pleasant to hear and Clarke cringed, imagining O's reaction to whatever comment was about to be thrown at her.

Suddenly though, Emory's expression smoothed over and she smiled politely. "True."

Emory turned on her heels, looked directly at Clarke, making it obvious she was aware of her presence and that she knew Clarke had been listening in, winked and mouthed what looked an awfully like 'You're welcome' before strolling away.

Octavia took two steps in Clarke's direction. "What the fuck was that?"

"I have no idea." And that terrified her more than she was willing to admit.

O expelled a deep breath. "Okay. Okay. Fire alarm. In the kitchen. It'll be alright. I'll see you in two."

"Yeah."

Focus. She had to clear her mind and just focus on now. They'd talk about this later, connect the dots and figure it out. Now was not the time.

A loud siren started blaring as water poured from the jets on the ceiling. People began screaming and Clarke saw Miller and Maya indicating the way out.

In the midst of the confusion, Clarke ripped the skirt of her dress, which Maya had sewn herself for that propose exactly, leaving only the blue corset and a pair of black leggings she'd put on beneath the dress. She left the piece of clothing behind and ran to the door she'd spotted earlier and slipped inside unseen.

Wick and Lincoln were already there and there was a codelock visible in the left wall, so they must've found and pressed the button Raven had mentioned. Octavia entered not a minute later.

"Everyone okay?" Raven checked.

They all gave affirmative answers and a barely audible relieved sigh came through the com.

"Good. Now, let's do this."

Wick was already by the number pad by the time Raven finished speaking. He took a device that Clarke hadn't even known he'd brought out of his jacket's pocket and held it in front of the pad while he tapped a few times on the screen.

After a few minutes of anxiously waiting without anyone saying anything, a ding sounded in the room as the pad's screen lit up with green and a panel on the wall slid to the side, revealing a dark corridor.

Octavia was already going in before either of them could do or say anything. Lincoln followed behind without a second of hesitation.

Wick turned to her. "You go first. I got your back."

Clarke nodded and went in.

Behind her, she heard Wick mutter, "Dammit Reyes, I told you we should bring a flashlight."

Raven never got the chance to answer because they heard the unmistakable sound of someone stumbling followed by Lincoln's quiet voice. "I got you."

A second later Octavia warned, "Careful guys, there's a staircase ahead of you."

Just like Octavia had said, Clarke found the staircase a few steps ahead. She gripped the railing and did her best not to trip.

After what felt like several minutes of going down, Octavia spoke again. "Okay, it ends here."

"I think there's a door," Lincoln said.

And sure enough, a door opened in front of them. It led to yet another corridor, though this one was much larger and illuminated than the one they'd just been in.

"According to your trackers, you're already in the underground levels. There should be a door to your right, try to open it and–"

Wick interrupted. "There's only one problem with that, Raven. We have at least ten doors to our right. Any clue which one is the right one?"

There was a moment of silence and then, "No, there was only supposed to be a single door. Are you sure?"

"Sure that I'm _seeing_ at least ten doors in front of my eyes? Yeah, pretty sure."

There was a frustrated sigh. "I don't doubt you see more than one, Kyle. I'm just asking if they're real, if they lead anywhere."

"Oh. That. Hmm, I don't know. Wait a sec."

Wick moved to the first door but just as his hand was about to touch the handle, Octavia called out. "Guys… You need to see this."

Octavia was standing by the fourth door, a worried frown on her face. "There's a sign on the first three doors though I suspect the same thing happens from the fifth on." They all looked and there it was, a white sign with black letters that read 'Don't open'. "The sign on the fourth door is different." Once again, they all looked to see what she meant and found the same sign with a different inscription. 'Open'.

"No. Don't even think about it," Monty exclaimed. "When you find a corridor of doors that all look the same, do you know what you don't do if you find one that looks different? Open it. You _don't_ open it. Ever. Under any circumstance."

Clarke stifled a laugh at hearing his enthusiasm. "Monty–"

"Don't even try, Clarke. Jasper, tell them."

"He's right, guys. You can't just open a door that says 'Open' when all the other doors say 'Don't open'. It's asking for it."

Miller tried, "Look, carefully try and–"

"No! No. You _can't_. Just think about it. It's gotta be a trap, right?" Jasper questioned.

"Obviously a trap," Monty supported.

"We don't have time for this," Maya admonished.

"Oh for fuck's sake," Wick muttered under his breath right before charging forward and opening the door. "There."

No that she'd ever admit it, but Clarke actually held her breath for a few seconds, waiting for something to charge them or for anything bad to happen, like it definitely would if they were in a movie. Nothing did.

Peaking inside, they saw another corridor with a turn to the left after a few meters. Raven informed them that was what she was expecting they'd find.

They walked for about seven minutes and then found a door on their right. Ahead, the corridor opened into a small space, apparently without any exits.

"Okay, on your right you have the kids. In front of you, there's the passage, you just have to figure out how to open it."

Octavia turned to Clarke. "Lincoln and I can figure out how to open it. You and Wick get the kids."

Clarke and Wick nodded, then proceeded to open the door.

The room wasn't small but it surely wasn't big enough for so many kids to fit comfortably. If Clarke had to guess, she'd say there were more ten fifty children inside. A boy, maybe fourteen, was standing in front of the group, with his arms spread beside him, as if he could keep the younger ones behind him and protect them from whoever had come for them. There was a little girl hiding behind his legs, gripping the fabric of his t-shirt tightly in her hands.

"You can't– You can't take them. I won't let you." The boy's voice was shaky but it didn't lack determination and Clarke couldn't hear an ounce of fear in it. It was clear that the boy truly believed he could stop them if their intention was to hurt the other kids.

Wick spoke gently, "We're not here to hurt you, kid. We came to get you out."

The boy's stance didn't change. "Really? You appeared out of nowhere and came here to what? Save us? You think I'm stupid?"

"No, I really don't. I think you're a really brave boy and smart too, since you obviously don't trust strangers. But you _can_ trust us. We're here to help you."

"You're here to take us from a prison to another. I don't know, or care, if that's your definition of help, but it definitely isn't mine."

Clarke tried, "No, that's not our definition of help either. For us, helping you is taking you somewhere where you'll be safe, warm, have food and be cared for. We won't let anything bad happen, you have my word."

The boy eyed her dubiously and just as he opened his mouth to retort something, the little girl behind him peaked at Clarke and asked, "What's your name? Your real one?"

A little taken aback by the question but unwilling to let it go unanswered, Clarke told her, "It's Clarke."

The girl smiled brightly and tugged on the boy's shirt. "It's her, Josh. We have to go."

The boy frowned and held her arm as if he wanted to keep her by his side even though she hadn't tried to leave it. "You can't just trust whatever anyone tells you. I've explained that to you a million times, Tess."

"I trust _you_. But you also have to trust me."

The boy sighed and the girl talked over the words he might've said. "Please. Trust me on this."

Clarke saw the same determination she'd seen before on the boy's face. "Fine." And then quieter, "Please don't let me regret this," before speaking up again, "What do you need me to do?"

It did not escape Clarke's notice how he said 'me' and not 'us'. "Nothing, really. You just have to be ready to go in a few minutes. We will have to walk for a while and then we have a car waiting for us. How many are you?"

"Seventy eight," the boy answered defensively. "We don't leave anyone behind."

"Of course not," Wick said before Clarke could. "Is anyone hurt?"

At that, thankfully the boy shook his head no.

"Jasper, you got that?"

"Yeah, seventy eight, no one injured. On it."

The door opened and Octavia came in, looking worried. "Clarke, we need you guys outside."

"Why? What's–"

"We can't find the passage."

Clarke fought down the bubble of panic that threatened to burst out at hearing those words fall from Octavia's mouth.

"Okay, well, maybe it's just really well hidden."

"Yeah, let's hope so."

Wick called out right before they left the room. "Hey, do you want me to look too?"

Clarke shot an uncertain glance at the kids. "Maybe you should–"

"It's fine. I'll watch them," the boy interrupted, sounding far surer of himself than Clarke thought he felt.

"Okay. Thank you. We're right outside so if there is anything you need..."

The boy nodded and the girl smiled at Clarke again.

The three of them slipped out and Clarke immediately questioned, "How bad is it?"

"We have no idea where the passage is. Linc and I checked the entire wall. It seems solid."

"Not everything is as it seems. Check again," Raven ordered over the earpiece.

They all went to the wall and, after a few minutes, got to the same conclusion as Lincoln and Octavia.

"There has to be another way out."

"There isn't! Monty and I have been checking for one for the last half hour, not to mention the time he and Jasper spent looking in the last few days," Raven's voice was still somewhat controlled but there was no hiding the underlying panic beneath it.

"So what do we do? We can't just stay here waiting. Any last minute ideas?"

No one said anything. Raven broke the silence. "Check again."

Wick's voice was soft and almost placating. "Raven–"

"Check. Again," the other girl bit out. "It's there. We all know it's there. You must have missed something. Check again."

The group shared a look between them. Before they could move to do anything though, Miller's voice carried through the com. "Guys, this place is being swarmed by guards."

"What do you mean–"

"I mean, there are guards coming in from everywhere and opening every door and shit."

"How many?"

"Way more than we were counting on."

"Get out of there."

"What?"

"Miller. Get Maya and leave. Get to the van Raven and Monty are on."

"We can't just leave you here to fend for yourselves."

"You can't help us. If there are guards coming, it won't be long before they start checking everyone's ID's. Get out."

"We can create a distraction or–"

"There isn't a distraction big enough to allow us to get eighty kids out unnoticed. You'll get caught. Get out."

"Listen to her, man. Take Maya and leave."

There was a moment of silence and then, "If anything happens to you, I–"

Raven interrupted the flow of words they all knew was coming. "Miller. Get the hell out of there. Now."

They heard a sigh and a muttered curse. "Fine."

Everyone in the group was quiet for a while, all of them thinking, trying to come up with something that would allow them to escape.

"We all have our guns at ready, right? Just in case they come. At least we can hold them off–"

"Hold them off? Hold them off for how long? We're far outnumbered, Clarke. We'll run out of amo before all of them come down. And with what purpose? To take as many with us as we possibly can?"

"Don't talk like that! Don't you dare talk like that. This is not– This isn't it. Do you hear me? Don't you dare give up now."

"Raven–"

"Kyle, I swear, if you even try to give me _that_ talk now, I'll fucking cut your balls off–"

Wick laughed and with a sad smile, "I'd rather you do that than not seeing you again. Fuck, Raven–"

"Shut up. I don't want to hear it." They all understood what she really meant. _I don't want you to say it._

"Okay. Yeah, okay."

Silence filled the room again.

The door from the room the kids were in opened and the boy came out. His expression was relieved when he saw them. "You're still here. You were taking so long, I thought..."

"We would never just leave without you. We never abandon our people. No one gets left behind," Octavia said, voice fierce. And for the first time, the boy seemed to believe them.

Clarke wanted to cry at the irony and unfairness of it all. He believed them, when they'd practically no hope of making it out.

"Why don't you go and wait with your friends? I bet they'll feel safer with you there," Clarke suggested softly.

The boy nodded once and turned, already making his way back to the room when Octavia called him back. "No, wait. Bring the rest of the kids here. We can't go just yet, but we can all wait together."

The corner of his mouth twitched up in what could've been a smile. "Okay."

As soon as he was gone, Clarke hissed, "What the fuck, O?"

"They're locked in a room, alone and scared."

"You're giving them false hope. We have no idea if we can make it out or how. They'll just–"

The sound of quiet footsteps and soft whispers cut off the rest of her sentence.

The four of them looked at each other one more time, trying to decide what to do.

Just as Clarke was about to order the kids back into the room, the sound of a lock sliding out of place and the whirling of a panel sliding in the wall behind them filled the room.

They turned their backs on the kids and looked, only to find a hole, its size bigger than a door's, in the wall they'd checked several times.

The dark of the corridor beyond the door obscured the figure leaning against the doorway.

Clarke's heart was pounding in her chest. How had Jasper remembered to try to open the passage from the outside and why hadn't he warned them? How had he opened it? She was about to voice these questions when a voice that obviously didn't belong to Jasper broke the silence.

"Is this what you've been looking for, for the last half hour?"

And then stepping forward and blocking their only way out, came John Murphy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it ^^
> 
> I'm thinking about getting two or three chapters written before I update again so that updates can come weekly. I'll be home for the next two weeks though, so it might not take that long *-*
> 
> Please leave kudos or drop a comment telling me what you thought <3
> 
> xxx


	12. Chapter IX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! c:
> 
> First of all, I want to apologize for disappearing on you. Life has been a real struggle this past year; a lot of stuff happened that I had no idea how to deal with, and I just couldn't find the motivation to keep writing.
> 
> However, things are looking up, and I'm officially back!! Yay :D
> 
> I know this chapter is shorter than the last ones, I'm hoping that I'll be able to get back to writing that lenght after posting a couple more ;)
> 
> I want to thank all of you for the continued support; all your kind and encouraging words, kudos and subscriptions really meant a lot. I promise I'll answer the unaswered comments later ^.^
> 
> Lastly, I can't get in contact with my beta, so this chapter is unbetaed, all mistakes are mine. I've already started looking for someone else to edit and review the fic but I haven't found anyone interested yet :/
> 
> Anyway, I hope you like it (in spite of the shorter lenght), and I swear I'll start posting reguralry, this time for real <3

For a moment, it was like everything stopped, everyone stilled and nobody breathed. White noise filled Clarke's ears and she couldn't register anything.

Murphy. She had known something wasn't right when he'd approached her earlier, but she'd pushed that feeling deep down and decided to move forward with the plan. And now, because of her recklessness, they were all screwed.

Then, before anyone could try to stop her, Tess shot in Murphy's direction and he grinned, automatically opening his arms to catch her.

“Murphy! You're here! And they really came, just like you promised they would!”

The little girl had her arms wrapped around Murphy's neck. Her brother, who'd proven to be so protective of her and the other kids, was quietly watching the scene, not an inch of panic in his expression.

Clarke forced her voice to work. “Alright. What's going on?”

Murphy's eyes snapped to her and there was no denying the adoration shining in them. “I believe I'll have to postpone the explanation. There's not much time left. You have to get out of here and the exit… is right through this tunnel.”

“No way,” Wick exploded when none of them immediately refused. “You really wanna trust this guy?”

“You don't have a choice, Wick. The place is swarming with guards; you have to get out of there.”

“Yeah, _his_ guards, remember?”

“Kyle, I swear to god–”

Murphy interrupted. “Look, as entertaining as hearing you two bicker is, we're running out of time. I'll meet you later. We can talk then and you can introduce me to the rest of the crew.”

Octavia tried one last time, “Why should we trust you?”

Murphy outright laughed. “You shouldn't. But I'm the only chance you have of making it out.”

Everything after that happened in a blur. Clarke and the others directed the kids into the tunnel, promising to get them to safety. Lincoln and Octavia took the front while Clarke and Wick stayed back.

When everyone was already inside, Clarke turned back to close the door. Murphy was nowhere to be seen.

“Dammit,” she muttered. There was nothing they could do about it now.

It took them almost an hour to get to the place where the van was supposed to be hidden but, instead of it, they found a bus parked in its place.

“Where the hell did you get a fucking bus?” Octavia burst out.

“Yeah, and on such short notice?”

Jasper smirked, simultaneously smug and proud. “Monty and I are resourceful. Haven't you guys learned that by now?”

Clarke shook her head, not deigning it with a response, not completely sure her voice wouldn't break if she did. Instead, she turned to the terrified kids behind her. “These are our friends, they’re good people and they will not harm you. They’ve been helping us from the outside. Right now, you just need to get on the bus and Jasper will drive us somewhere safe, okay?”

Clarke got a few reluctant nods and then all the children moved to obey. The idea that they did so because they thought they had to rather than they believed her promise of safety made her sick.

“Clarke,” Lincoln called, “We need to decide on where we’re taking them.”

“I don’t think we should take them to Monty and Jasper’s this time. That guy knew too much about us. It’s too risky.”

“You’re right. That’s exactly what I was thinking. But if we don’t take them there, where can we go? The rest of us live in actual apartments, not in almost mansions like those two. We can separate the kids, take them to our places. I’m not sure it’s a good plan to break them up though.”

Clarke sighed. “It’s not. And we can’t be sure it’s absolutely safe either.” She pondered about it for a few minutes and then, “Alright. I think I know a place.”

***

They arrived at Clarke’s – Abby’s really – villa nearly an hour later. The house was empty just like Clarke was sure it would be; her family only ever used it on holidays – when they wanted to truly rest and get away from everything.

The villa was big though, just as every single one pf the Griffin’s residences were; there was certainly more than enough space for the children to comfortably stay in.

The group made sure to feed the kids and then distributed them through the rooms, making sure to hand out pillows and blankets to everyone.

They argued over who should stay to watch over them for the rest of the night and, even though a part of her wanted to go home and check on Bellamy, reason won out and Clarke volunteered to take the first shift, arguing most of the children seemed comfortable and safe around her.

***

It was around three in the morning and all of the children were thankfully already fast asleep when Clarke received the phone call.

Her home number flashed on the screen and Clarke wondered what Bellamy could possibly want at this hour, before a million terrible possibilities crosses her mind.

“Hello?”

Clarke could hear soft panting on the other side of the line and her concern only grew. “Bellamy?”

There was a hitch in his breathing and then, “Clarke. There’s– There’s someone here. I hid in your bathroom and locked the door but I don’t know if it’ll hold when they find me. Please. _Please._ I don’t want to go back. Clarke, please.”

Bellamy’s breathing was erratic by this point and all Clarke could feel was the growing panic cursing through her.

“Bellamy, listen to me, okay? I’m coming, alright? Just try and stay calm. I’m going to call the Guard and they’ll get there in no time at all. I’m on my way. You’re going to be fine; no one’s taking you anywhere you don’t want to go. Okay? I have to hang up so that I can call them. I’m coming, Bellamy. I swear I won’t let anything happen to you. You’re going to be just fine, you understand?”

“Y-yes. Just get here fast. Please.”

“I will, I promise.”

Clarke’s hands were shaking as she dialed the Guard’s number and explained the situation. She called Octavia next, who told her to go and that she and Lincoln would take care of the kids.

She was sure she broke half the traffic rules as she raced to get to Bellamy.

All she could think about was that it was her fault. She shouldn’t have left him alone. She should have told him about the break-in. She shouldn’t have downplayed it the way she so carelessly did. At least Raven or Monty should have been informed, she was sure one of them would have been able to gain access to the safety cameras and find out who the intruder had been. But Clarke had been desperate to prove herself that she and Bellamy were safe, that there was no one out to get her, or him. And now he was paying the price for her actions and thoughtless decisions.

As she got there, her heartbeat increased like crazy. There were three of the Guard’s cars parked outside the apartment.

Clarke sprinted up the stairs, just hoping that Bellamy was okay and that nothing had happened to him.

Finally arriving at her floor, she noticed that her door was opened.

Just as she was about to enter, two guardsmen walked out and, behind them, in handcuffs, was none other than Dax.

The guy’s eyes widened when he saw her and he strained to get to her. “Clarke! Clarke, please, don’t let them take me. I swear I didn’t want to, it wasn’t my fault. I had to, _I had to_ … Please, don’t let them take me. I don’t want to die. Please, Clarke, I had to, please.”

He was close to tears as the guards took him away and Clarke was left stunned looking at their retreating backs.

Another member of the Guard came out of her apartment. “Miss, I understand this is your apartment, correct?”

All Clarke could do was nod.

“Alright. There’s a young man locked in one of the bathrooms that refuses to open the door.”

“Yes. He’s the one who called me; I can take care of that.”

The man nodded. “We weren’t sure if he was another intruder–”

“No! No, of course not.”

“Alright. Well, you’ll have to come by the station to give your statements.”

Clarke knew that, of course she did, but she couldn’t exactly drag Bellamy to the station in the state he probably was. “Of course. Can we do that tomorrow? It’s the middle of the night and I’m sure you understand we are not in the right state of mind to be giving any depositions right this second.”

The man sighed even as he nodded again. “Just come by in the morning.”

“Thank you.”

The guard left and Clarke took it as her cue to go to Bellamy.

She knew he was okay and yet, her heart was beating wildly in her chest, as if they were still in imminent danger.

Clarke went to close and lock the door only to realize her lock was broken. She pushed that problem to the back of her mind and raced to her bedroom.

“Bellamy?”

Her bathroom door was opening a second later and then she was engulfed in Bellamy’s arms. He was holding her so tightly, it was getting hard to breathe, but she would never be the one to pull away.

He was slightly shaking and Clarke became aware she was too.

“Damn it, I was so scared when you called. You have no idea how glad I am that nothing happened to you; how relived I am that you’re still here.”

Bellamy’s hold tightened around her as he exhaled hard against her. _Me too._

They spent the rest of the night on the couch, watching silly movies, both of them too keyed up to even be thinking about sleep.

The sun was rising and Clarke about to fall asleep when the thought crossed her mind.

Dax had to break her door to get in; whoever had been in her apartment before had managed to get in and out without damaging her lock.

Dax’s words were running through her mind as Clarke eventually succumbed to sleep.

_“I swear I didn’t want to, it wasn’t my fault. I had to,_ I had to _…”_

***

It was a few hours later that Clarke woke up to the sound of her phone ringing.

“Hello?”

“Good morning. Am I speaking to Clarke Griffin?”

“Yes. Who is this?”

“This is Officer Ramirez. I’m calling from the Guard station. You were supposed to come by later to give your statement. I’m calling to inform you that it is no longer necessary.”

“Why? Won’t our testimonies be needed to build the case against Dax?”

There was a pause on the other end. “There won’t be a case.” The man continued before Clarke could voice her protests. “Dax was found dead in his cell two hours ago. It would seem he poisoned himself.”

“What?”

“Have a good day, Miss Griffin.”

***

Clarke was still reeling from the news of Dax’s death a few hours later. _I don’t want to die._

His words were haunting her and there were too many things that didn’t make sense for her to be able to let it go.

Her phone ringing brought her out of her thoughts.

“Octavia? Is everything alright?”

The other girl’s voice was tense and had a wild edge to it. “Kind of depends on what you mean by alright. Murphy is at your villa with the kids and the rest of the group.”

The very last thing Clarke wanted to do at that moment was leave Bellamy, alone and vulnerable. But her friends and the children they promised to protect and wanted to save were in danger, and in the end, that was exactly what Clarke did.

“I’m on my way.”

***

Clarke got to the villa, terrified and slightly out of breath, and the first thing she noticed was the small array of cars parked in front of it, which could only mean her friends were all inside. The bus was still parked in the same place Jasper had left it so all of the kids should still be there.

Clarke rushed through the front door; she didn’t what she was expecting exactly, seeing the guys holding Murphy at gunpoint, noticing some of them had been hurt, Murphy having some kind of diabolical plan that they would ultimately have no choice but to follow.

Seeing Murphy sitting on her kitchen counter sipping coffee from one of her mom’s mugs was most definitely _not_ on Clarke’s list of possibilities.

“Clarke! Hi,” Murphy greeted her, like they were fucking _friends_ , upon seeing her standing in the doorway. “A little late to the party, aren’t you? I was starting to worry you wouldn’t show up.” The asshole paused dramatically and, when Clarke didn’t engage, continued. “They’re through there. In your beautifully decorated living room if I’m not mistaken.”

Clarke headed in that direction without sparing him a second glance.

The muffled shouting could be heard from two corridors away.

“Can someone please explain me what the _fuck_ is going on?” Were the first that left her mouth after she barged into the room.

“Clarke! Finally! Please explain them why we can’t let that guy walk out of here.” Jasper said like it answered her question.

“No, Clarke, explain _him_ why we can’t just _kill_ a guy.”

“I’m not suggesting we kill him, Raven, I’m just saying he shouldn’t leave this place. We can’t let him get out of here; he knows things he shouldn’t, dangerous, life-threatening things, or have you forgotten that?”

“Guys! What the hell?”

Clarke’s exclamation was promptly ignored in favor of continuing the discussion.

Lincoln walked closer while Jasper and Raven kept arguing. “Murphy just showed up, Clarke, out of the blue. Octavia and I were watching the kids when he rang the doorbell. We can’t find his car parked near here, and unless he walked, which I think we can both agree is highly unlikely, it means someone had to have dropped him off.”

“Maybe that chick from the ‘party’,” Clarke suggested.

“Yeah, maybe. Either way, our location is compromised and we still don’t know what he wants.”

“Wait, what? You haven’t talked to him?”

“No. I mean, we agreed to wait until we were all here; now we were just waiting for you.”

“And you left him alone? What about the kids?”

“He didn’t indicate that he knew they were here. They’re all upstairs, Octavia instructed them to stay there, trust me, they’re not coming down. Oh– And the kitchen is obviously bugged. Jasper and Monty took care of it as soon as they got here, so we’ve got that part covered, we’ll know if he moves.”

The breath rushed out of Clarke. “Okay. All right. Good thinking, really glad that part’s handled, seriously I’m really feeling better knowing that we have some kind of control over this. Well, I think our first move should be to hear what he has to say.”

Lincoln nodded. “I agree.” And then he smirked, “You just have to get that two to stop fighting, first.”


End file.
